


A Dark Stranger Comes

by AderynBennett88



Series: In the Absence of Light [1]
Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess
Genre: A Little Bit Smutty, Angst, Betrayal, Comments are my lifeblood, Enduring love, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Forbidden Love, Friends to Lovers, Gen, Graphic Description, Humour, Jealousy, Language of Flowers, Lemons and Limes, M/M, Magic, Non-Canon Personality, Non-Canon Relationship, Obsession, Original Character(s), POV Multiple, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Prophecy, Romance, Secrets, Sex, Taboo Love, Talking Link (Legend of Zelda), Tension, Torture, Trauma, Unrequited Crush, Unrequited Love, a little bit lemony, hidden love, long read, non-canon, non-canon characters - Freeform, really slow burn, seriously slow burn, sorcery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:27:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 113
Words: 261,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22121806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AderynBennett88/pseuds/AderynBennett88
Summary: Nine years after Link has saved Hyrule from the Twilight Crisis, the land has entered a time of relative peace. Ganondorf is dead, and aside from occasional trouble with rogue monsters or bandits, the citizens of Hyrule have little to fear.That is until a dark stranger falls from the sky.Tasked with guarding the oddly charming stranger on the back of a troubling prophecy Princess Zelda has discovered, Link must do what is necessary to keep Hyrule safe, even if the dangers are not immediately obvious.But his own demons are coming back to haunt him as well...~~~~~~~Please do leave a like and a comment if you enjoyed, I love getting feedback from you all!Don't forget to check out my other works!I'm on Twitter! @AderynTheHylian - come and find me!
Relationships: Dark Link/Ilia, Dark Link/Link (Legend of Zelda), Impa/Zelda (Legend of Zelda), Link (Legend of Zelda) & OC, Link/OC (Legend of Zelda)
Series: In the Absence of Light [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1987870
Comments: 375
Kudos: 420





	1. 1 - Link

It was the perfect summer morning. The sky was a clear, unbroken blue, mirrored in the deep, crystalline waters of Lake Hylia. The softest breeze rustled the long grass of the banks, carrying a delicate scent of scattered wildflowers spread through the green.

In the shade of a tree, fishing rod propped against a stump, Link leant against a low rock. His hat was pulled down over his eyes, his hands crossed over his stomach. Legs stretched out in front of him, he dozed, enjoying the first truly warm day Hyrule had experienced in months.

The last of the Moblin Rebellion had been put to rest not four days ago, and after several long, tedious council meetings and assurances that the rebellion was indeed over, Link had finally packed a small bag, picked up his fishing pole, and ridden out to Lake Hylia on Epona, who seemed just as glad to leave the castle behind as he was.

Link shifted against the rock, wriggling his shoulders to get more comfortable. A light tinkling sounded in his ear. Cracking an eye open, he saw Navi, his faithful companion. Eight inches tall and surrounded by a soft, blue glow, the fairy had somehow returned to him, by virtue of fae magic. Six years after the Mirror of Twilight was broken, she had appeared as if from nowhere, and the memories of their time together came flooding back from centuries ago.

Now, she rarely left his side. She was looking at him now, perched on a broken branch that lay at the base of the tree. Link smiled, and sat up with a small groan, stretching his back.

“Did I wake you?” Navi asked, flitting to stand on his knee.

“No,” Link said. “I was only resting my eyes. It’s nice to have a minute to relax.”

“It is,” the fairy agreed. She shook her head, a slight motion that sent her waves of light blue hair cascading down her back between wings that seemed so fine that they might tear at the slightest breeze. Link knew better. They were as hard as steel, and the edges, when turned the right way, were sharp as shattered glass.

“Are you going to fish all afternoon?” Navi asked. She eyed the pole, the line resting in the water, the bobber floating on the surface. Nothing had taken the bait yet, but that was part of it. Waiting for a fish to take could take minutes, or hours, or all day. Plenty of time to rest.

“Yes,” Link said. “I’d like at least half a day to do what I’d like to do, for once.”

Navi blinked, and Link raised his hands, placatingly.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I’m just sick of the meetings, the fighting, the…”

He broke off. From far away, something not unlike thunder had sounded, faint on the air. Link cocked his head, listening. The sky was azure, no wisps of cloud to mar the blue. Epona flicked an ear, her head bent intently to the berry bush she was studiously dismantling. Navi shrugged.

“I know,” she said. “I’m just thankful I get to share it with you.”

Link chuckled. “I’m pleased you’re here too, Navi.”

The fairy smiled a wide, bright smile. It faded as the rumble came again, somewhat louder, yet still faint.

“I hope it’s not going to rain,” she said, dubiously, glancing at the clear sky.

“I’d prefer that to unexplained rumblings,” Link said, darkly. His hand strayed to his sword, lying next to him. It wasn’t the Master Sword, which had long since returned to its pedestal, but it was a fine blade nonetheless. Link never went anywhere unarmed anymore. He sat up a little straighter, straining his ears for a sound other than the rustling leaves or gentle birdsong. There was nothing.

Link began to relax when the bobber jerked, then disappeared under the surface. Link dived for the pole, snatching it as it was almost yanked off the tree stump. He dug his heels into the earth as the fish took the bait, and fought against it as it tried to swim away. Link grunted, pulling on the pole, straining against his foe. The fish jerked from side to side, snapping its tail at the surface of the water. Link yanked the pole again, drawing the fish closer to the bank. The fish dived down, and Link gave a mighty effort, when with a splash, the fish flew clear of the water and landed with a smack in his lap.

All at once, a great, booming crash roared from above. It was as though someone had torn a great ream of cloth and magnified the sound to thunderous levels. Epona brayed in terror, kicking up her back legs and straining at the rope that tied her to the tree. Link clapped his hands to his ears, the fish flopping on the ground, closer and closer to the water. Link scrambled for it, then stopped as a great, jagged black tear appeared in the sky.

Link’s jaw dropped as Navi screamed, high and shrill. The fish slipped his grasp and escaped into the water, taking his pole with it. Eyes on the gash in the sky, Link did not notice. As he stared, something appeared to fall through it. A tiny, black speck, almost invisible against the darkness. And just like that, the rent in the sky was gone, and something was plummeting towards the lake.

Link scrambled backwards for his sword, eyes on the falling figure. It twisted in the air, and Link saw slim arms, long legs, and a shock of black hair, before it hit the lake with a painful _thwack_ , sending a cascade of water towards the bank. Hand on his sword, Link watched the surface ripple, before a face appeared, lips parted, eyes closed.

A woman.

Instinct took over, and Link dropped the sword, tearing off his boots, hat and tunic, and sprinted for the water.

“ _Wait!_ ” Navi shrieked, but Link dove into the lake, striking out to the centre of the ripples, where the woman’s face disappeared in a soft burst of bubbles. Link took a breath, and dove under the surface.

The light of the sun penetrated only a few feet, and Link struck out into the darkening waters. He could hear nothing but his own blood rushing in his ears, pounding as he descended. He began to grab at the black water, his lungs starting to burn. Why, _why_ hadn’t he thought to bring his Zora tunic? He was at the lake after all!

He flailed, grasping at nothing, kicking further and further down. His lungs were afire, his throat straining against the instinct to gasp, and suck the lethal liquid deep into his lungs. He bared his teeth. He needed air. But, so did the woman. She looked to have been unconscious, she would not have taken breath before going under. Even now, she may be breathing the suffocating waters of Lake Hylia, choking in blackness.

His lungs were screaming. Cursing himself for his failure, Link turned, and as he did, his fingers brushed something. A hand. He snatched it, groping along the arm for a body. Gripping tightly, he released a bubble of precious air, lit by the faintest glimmer from above, watching it rise. He swam for the surface, straining against the extra weight.

He broke the surface with a gasp, water streaming into his eyes, hair plastered to his head. He hoisted the body with him, flipping her head out of the water. He rolled onto his back, keeping her face away from the water, clutching her tightly. She lolled against him as he kicked for the shore, her black hair forming rivulets of ink against her parchment pale skin.

Navi was frantic, a blue glimmer that zipped up and down.

“Link! Link! What are you doing?” she cried, her voice shrill in the quiet. “What have you done? It’s a monster! It’s dangerous, it’s a…”

“A woman,” Link panted, standing in the shallow water and dragging her up. He laid her on the bank, her feet in the water, turning her onto her back. She didn’t appear to be breathing. Link placed his hands one on top of the other and pressed hard onto her chest, five times quickly. It had no effect. He bent forwards and grasped her chin, tilting her face as he lowered his. A blur of blue shot in the way.

“Link, stop this madness!” Navi squeaked, flitting in front of his face as he sat back. “It fell from the sky!”

“We won’t find out why unless we save her,” Link snapped. He brushed Navi aside, gently despite his frustration, and placed his lips on the strange woman’s, blowing hard so that her chest rose. He leant back to take another breath, when her eyes snapped open.

Link had barely a moment to register that they were as green as the fields around him, when she lashed an arm as strong and hard as an iron bar across his chest, sending him sprawling to the side. She lurched to all fours, coughing and retching, her sides heaving as she drew great, rasping breaths. Link sat up, dazed.

The woman was a few feet from him, her back arched as she hacked up the last of the lake water. Her sodden clothes were as black as her hair, and Link noticed she was in travelling trousers and knee-high boots, not a skirt. An empty sheath was on her thigh, large enough for a knife. She drew another, deep breath, and collapsed on her side, panting. Her eyes were closed again. Her cheekbones were high, her parted lips full.

Link got on his knees and cautiously approached.

“Are you alright?” he asked, softly.

The woman chuckled dryly, and coughed again.

“I think so,” she said, in an accent Link had never heard before. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he said. He shuffled closer so that he was almost touching her. “Are you hurt?”

“I don’t…” The woman half-opened her eyes, her gaze on his hands. He saw her eyes trace the Triforce. They widened. She looked up, confused.

“Are you…?”

“For the love of the Goddesses, let’s go!” Navi groused, flitting next to Link. “We can’t…”

The woman let out a small gasp, her pupils contracting. And she fainted.

XXXXXX

The woman came to as Link lifted her into Epona’s saddle, swaying as he climbed up behind her. The horse had calmed following the tear in the sky, but she was still skittish, and eager to be off.

“What’s…” the woman raised a hand to her head, and stared about. Fear crossed her face and she looked at Link. “Who are you? Where am I?”

Link paused in the act of tightening Epona’s reins as she pawed the ground. His clothes had dried somewhat in the sun, and Navi had taken sulky refuge from the heat in one of the saddlebags. “You don’t know?”

She shook her head slowly. She huddled in the blanket he had wrapped around her, her legs over one of his own. “Why am I wet?”

“You fell in the lake,” Link explained.

“I don’t remember being by a lake.”

Link made a calming motion with his hand. “It’s alright. We’ll find out what happened. What’s the last thing you remember?” He nudged Epona’s sides as she began to walk.

“Where are you taking me?” the woman asked, stiffening in the saddle.

“The castle,” Link said, because he couldn’t think of anywhere else. “You’ll be safe there.”

She looked up, dubiously. “Are you a prince, then?”

“No.”

“A knight?” she sounded sceptical.

“Of a sort,” Link answered. “But you didn’t answer me.”

“ _You_ didn’t answer me,” she challenged. “Who are you, and where am I?”

“I’m Link,” he said, giving Epona her head as she began to climb the hill that led northwest, towards the castle. “And you are in Hyrule.”

The woman said nothing for a little while. Then, quietly, “I’ve never heard of such a place.”

It was Link’s turn to be quiet. It was something he was used to. The woman spoke again.

“How did you find me?”

“I saw you fall,” Link said, carefully.

“Off the bank?”

“Out of the sky.”

The woman sat up straight.

“What?” she said. She gave him an incredulous look. “Are you having me on?”

“No,” Link said. The term was unfamiliar, but it made sense to him. “I can’t explain it. There was a loud noise, the sky opened, and you fell out. You fell in the lake, I pulled you out.”

The woman stared at him a while longer, the afternoon sun making her eyes glitter strangely. She shook her head. “Unbelievable.”

“So, what do you remember?” Link asked again.

The woman sighed, and sank back against his chest. She nestled in the crook of his arm. “I’m tired,” she said, softly. “And my head hurts when I try to think. I only remember being in a big, white room. There were lights. And then I was falling.”

Link nodded silently. The woman slumped against him.

“Try to stay awake for me,” he said. “Just until we reach the castle. There are people there who can care for you, make you better.”

“I’m fine,” she said, quietly. “I’m just tired.”

Link nudged his heels into Epona’s sides, and she began to trot. The woman bounced listlessly in the saddle. Link took one hand off the reins and pulled her closer to him. “Stay awake,” he urged.

“I’m awake.”

“Good. Can you tell me your name?”

The woman didn’t answer for a long time. Link urged Epona into a canter, then a gallop. Epona’s hooves were loud on the road, so that he nearly missed her whispered reply.

“Thoria. I’m Thoria.”


	2. 2 - Zelda

Princess Zelda gazed out of the large bay windows of her tower suite. They offered a beautiful view of Hyrule Fields, the rolling hills and plains stretching for as far as the eye could see. The windows and balcony on the opposite side of the enormous room offered views of the town. Occasionally she would sit there, in quieter times, and watch the people go about their day. She enjoyed the hustle and bustle of the people going about their business, rushing along like spring blossoms caught in a high wind.

But today, she preferred to watch the stillness of the countryside. The occasional bird flew across the sky, and wild horses might appear to graze under the scattered trees. A lone traveller or two could wander the road. The peacefulness was calming.

She twisted her gloved hands in her lap. She had sat by this window for an hour now, as the sun began its long journey toward the horizon. There had been distant rumbles, the promise of a storm to take away the growing humidity of the air, but no clouds had gathered. She sighed. The storm was clearly meant for somewhere else.

Her eyes were drawn back to the road. It flowed like a river of dusty cream towards the southeast, towards Lake Hylia. Link had left that morning, taking his horse and fishing pole, saying he needed a break. But a break from what? From the meetings? Zelda couldn’t blame him. They were long and tedious, the councillors droning on endlessly and arguing over the simplest of points. Perhaps he needed to get away from the castle, whose stone walls were so different than the peaceful greenery of Ordon Village he had grown up with. Or was it the town, whose bustling populous could become so claustrophobic, especially when he was recognised as easily as she was nowadays?

Or perhaps… he needed a break from her?

Zelda sighed. No. He was tired from a long fight, it would be wrong of her to ask him to stay when there were no battles to be fought.

She ran a hand over her hair. It wasn’t like they were betrothed, and that there were certain expectations to be had of him. But he _was_ her Chosen Knight, and had a duty to be by her side. She had created the title for him herself, and bestowed it upon him herself, in honour of his deeds. Link had accepted his new title with humility, and adhered to his duties without a word of complaint. With his new title came his new privileges – rooms in the castle itself, servants to wait on him, anything that he could ask for that she could give, to thank him for his great deeds. All accepted with grace, sincere thanks, and silence.

He could be a _little_ more grateful, she thought.

Though, she couldn’t begrudge him a little time to himself. It was necessary, sometimes, to be alone. This she understood. Day after day, ever since her father had grown weaker with his illness, she had been surrounded by her council and their advice, by the commons and their problems, and by her servants, doting on her every whim.

A moment alone was precious. All the same, it would have been nice to go along with him, just the two of them, where they could be alone together, away from the nosy court and the gossiping nobles. And Navi, of course, the darling fairy never left his side. The little fae was almost like a sister to her, now.

Zelda smiled, remembering whispered giggles that they had shared over a cup of wine, mostly talking about Link, sharing stories about the hero and his deeds, in this life and in the ones before. But she turned her eyes back to the horizon, longing to catch a glimpse of him, trotting back on Epona, a brace of fish perhaps tied to the saddle. He would cook them himself, over a campfire, the way he liked them best. Perhaps he would share a morsel with her. Zelda smiled. She could almost taste the smoky freshness on her tongue, steaming hot and succulent. But then she shook her head, softly. She had work to do. She would wait until she saw him, and then she would do her paperwork. Laws to read over, treaties to sign, her diary to write…

A figure appeared, distant on the road. Zelda sat up. Was it Link? The rider was at a hard gallop, strangely deformed. As they neared, Zelda picked up her miniature focusing-glasses. She raised them to her eyes.

She couldn’t make out the rider, but it was clear that it was two people on the horse, not one. It was hard to keep the horse in focus, as it was running flat out. It disappeared behind a copse of trees and Zelda sat back again, curious. She kept her eyes on the trees until the rider appeared again, and she looked once more through the lenses.

The colouring of the horse was unmistakeable. It was Epona, and upon her was Link, and he was not alone.

“Impa!” Zelda cried. Her advisor appeared as if from thin air.

“Princess,” she said, softly, her maroon eyes and silver hair all that was visible behind the high collar she wore.

“Link has returned,” Zelda said. “He seems to have someone with him. Send guards to meet him at the gates. And brush my hair.”

Impa bowed, and exited the suite. She returned barely a minute later, efficient and silent, carrying a hairbrush.

Zelda held herself in check, still and straight backed, as Impa brushed her smooth hair. The motion soothed her fluttering heart. It fluttered all too often around her hero these days.

A quarter of an hour passed before her breathing was calm again, and Impa straightened. “Your hair is tangle-free, your highness,” she said. Zelda looked up, and saw a smile in her dark eyes. She returned it. Impa always knew.

Zelda rose and strode to the doors of her suite, not too quickly. Outside, the guards at her door saluted her. Zelda took a confident, yet feminine walk along the long, richly carpeted corridor to the great staircase. A few floors down, and she would be in the grand entrance hall.

Impa was a few steps behind her. Far enough for propriety’s sake, yet close enough to defend her should the need arise. Zelda knew she always had armour on under her cloak, and lethal stiletto daggers strapped to her body. Her protector from birth, Impa had been with her longer than her dearly departed mother.

Zelda reached the final staircase. There was a small commotion going on outside. Zelda frowned. She could hear Link’s voice, urgent, worried.

“I don’t care, just get her to the doctor!”

Her? Doctor? Zelda placed a hand to her heart. Link had found a weary, injured traveller and selflessly brought them here. Then, she frowned. He had never done that before. Not to the castle, at any rate. The doctor in the town was sufficient for any traveller’s wounds, and Link himself seemed to prefer to go there than to use the superior Zora doctor in the castle.

She began to descend the steps, her hand lightly trailing the marble bannister. A pair of guards rushed through the great doors, one carrying the limp form of a dark-haired woman. Zelda could not help but notice that through she wore traveller’s clothes, she had a lithe, curved figure. Her hand strayed self-consciously to her own, small breast. A light touch on her shoulder was enough to bring her back to herself, and Impa coughed, delicately.

Link was striding through the great doors now, his brow sunburned, his hair windswept. His eyes were on the departing guards, who were hurrying through towards the castle doctor’s quarters. His eyes flickered to the stairs, and he slowed. To Zelda, it almost seemed reluctant.

But he observed the proper courtesies as always. He bowed, turning his full attention to her.

“Your Highness,” he said, respectfully.

“Link,” she greeted him, hurrying down the last few steps. “What on earth is happening?”

“It’s a long story,” he said. “And a strange one. I hope you don’t mind my bringing a stranger here, but…”

He trailed off, his gaze straying to the door the guards and woman had gone through.

“Of course,” Zelda said. “I do not mind. I am sure you have good reason.”

“I do,” Link said, darkly. “Princess, I beg your leave. I must refresh myself from the journey.” His clothes were covered in dust from the road, and he looked tired. “But I will happily give my account of how I found Thoria now, if you wish?”

“No, please, refresh yourself,” Zelda said. “I will meet you in the council chambers in half an hour.”

For half a heartbeat, Zelda almost thought she saw irritation flicker behind his eyes. But he smiled warmly, bowed once more, and said, “it would be my pleasure.”

Zelda glowed inside as he stepped around her and jogged up the staircase. His chambers were far from hers, on the other side of the castle, as was proper. Indeed, a low-born knight had no place living in the castle, but her father and the nobles had all eventually, if reluctantly agreed that his deeds warranted him certain privileges. It had taken her many nights of arguing with her father that he was worthy, regardless of the fact he was born a simple goat-herder. He was so much more than that now.

And it was nice to have him close by.

As Link took the stairs two at a time, Navi wriggled out from under his hat and flew to her.

“Hello Navi,” Zelda greeted her warmly. Navi squeaked a grunt.

“What is the matter?” Zelda asked, beginning a slow climb up the stairs.

“Tell you in a minute,” the fairy said, settling on Zelda’s shoulder. “Alone.”

After a short walk, Zelda reached the council chambers. A small entrance room opened onto the wide, circular chamber that served as her meeting room. It was dominated by a huge, rectangular table, covered as often as not by maps, sheaves of parchment, or sweetmeats. At the moment, it was bare.

Zelda lowered herself into the grand chair at the head of the table, Navi tinkling on her shoulder. The fairy’s warmth was comforting, the gossamer shift she wore silken against her cheek. The lowering sun shone reddening rays through the large windows, casting a ruddy light over the cold fireplace and vases of flowers.

“Impa,” Zelda addressed her aide. “Would you be so good as to fetch us some wine?”

Impa bowed. “A large bottle your highness?”

“A medium, if you would.” Zelda smiled. Impa always knew the meaning of her secret words. She would be gone for just long enough for her to talk with Navi.

Impa departed, and Navi fluttered to the table.

“Link will tell you,” Navi said, without preamble. “But I will as well, so you know it’s true. The woman who he rescued fell out of the sky.”

“What?” In her surprise, Zelda forgot herself a moment. She blushed, and took a breath, remembering it was only Navi in the room with her. “What do you mean, Navi?”

“Exactly what I said,” the fairy said. “There was a great clap of thunder, louder than I’ve ever heard, and there were no clouds. Then, the sky opened, and that woman fell out of the hole.”

Zelda sat back, stunned. “The sky… opened?”

The fairy nodded vigorously. “Like someone had cut it with a knife. It was only open a second.”

“And a person came through?”

“That woman. Fell right into the lake.” Navi scoffed. “And Link just dove right in and saved her, though I told him not to.”

Zelda frowned. “Why would you tell him that?”

Navi shrugged. “Who knows what it was? Could have been a monster for all we knew.”

“But it wasn’t,” said Link.

Zelda and Navi jumped. Link stood in the doorway, in a fresh, if wrinkled tunic, his hair damp. He had clearly run all the way to his chambers, changed, washed, and run back. Zelda marvelled at how he was not out of breath. He gave a gentle smile to the fairy. “I knew I was going to be safe, Navi. No need to be upset with me.”

Navi huffed. “You never did learn how to listen,” she said.

“Is what Navi said true?” Zelda asked, as Link took a seat.

“About a woman falling out of a rent in the sky? Yes. That’s why I bought her here,” Link said.

He paused as the door opened and Impa returned, carrying two goblets, a bottle of wine, and a thimble for Navi. She served the drinks silently and retreated to a corner to meld with the shadows.

“I thought,” Link said, taking a sip from his goblet, “that whatever opened the sky, and wherever the woman came from, would be something you would want to know about.”

“You were right,” Zelda said. She tried her own wine. It was rich and sweet. She kept her eyes on her hero. “We must investigate this. Impa, send out your best Sheika to investigate Lake Hylia. Tell the guards I want the strange woman treated graciously, and given everything she needs to make a speedy recovery.”

Impa bowed, and left.

“Tell me more,” Zelda said. “Who is she? Where did she come from?”

Link shrugged. “She doesn’t know. She remembered a white room, bright lights, and then falling. She said her name was Thoria. That’s all I got out of her before she fainted again.” He took a drink. “She was very pale, and she had nearly drowned. I thought it best to get her here instead of interrogate her.”

“You nearly drowned,” Navi pouted from the table. Link shot her a look and she busied herself with her thimble.

“Was there anything else strange?” Zelda asked.

“Nothing I noticed. Just the thunder from a clear sky, the sky opening, and a person falling through.” Link’s mouth twisted. “That was strange enough for me.”

“Nothing?” Zelda pressed. “It could be Gan-“

“It’s not him,” Link said, quickly. Then he ducked his head. “I apologise for interrupting, Your Highness.”

“It is alright,” Zelda said. She raised her hand as if to pat his own, then changed the motion into reaching for her goblet. “I worry. He came back after his banishment, and then his execution! I fear that he will return again.”

“I killed him myself. I doubt he will return this time, but if he does, we will be ready,” Link said. He offered a reassuring smile. “You have your books, your prophecies, your power. I’m confident that if there were any sign of Ganondorf returning, you’d know before anyone else.”

Zelda returned his smile. “I believe you.” She drank the last of her wine. She wanted to sit with him a while longer, to talk of the weather, of the townsfolk, of her day listening to them complain. She wanted him to listen, to make consoling noises, to make the japes about the commons that she was not allowed to make. But his eyes were heavy, his shoulders slumping.

“You have had a hard day,” she said, graciously. “You ought to rest. I have more work that needs doing, and I should research in the library about today’s event.”

Link nodded, and threw back the last of the wine. Navi copied him and fluttered up to his shoulder, snuggling close to his ear. Link inclined his head, the secret, informal bow Zelda let him get away with when they were alone, and then he was gone.

She sat a while longer in the darkening chamber. No servants came to light the torches. She poured herself another goblet of wine and sat, thinking.

It was too soon for Ganon to come again. It must be. But the sky tearing open, a stranger coming through… it reeked of dark magics.

She thought back to what Link had said. “ _You have your books, your prophecies, your power_.” The corners of her mouth turned down. She had her books, yes, she was one of the best researchers in Hyrule. And her prophecies, found within the dusty old tomes, or seen in visions during her sleep, had saved Hyrule more times than she could count over the years. But her power…

She sighed. Ever since the Twilight Crisis, ever since she had saved the Princess Midna from certain death by transferring her power to the imp, it seemed that some part of her was missing.

Of course, she could still call on the power of the Triforce when she needed to. It guided her instincts, gave her visions in her dreams. But the assured wisdom of before, the acute knowledge of exactly what she had to do, even the comforting presence of the goddesses… that was no longer there.

Her sacrifice had cost her more than she had realised at the time. Without the full might of the Triforce of Wisdom, she had to rely on herself alone.

Zelda sat in the growing dark and pondered.


	3. 3 - Navi

Navi snuggled next to Link’s ear, holding onto his earring as he walked. The day had been long and exhausting, and she couldn’t wait to get back to his chambers to sleep. She had been too afraid for him to sleep in his travel bag on the way back to the castle, too worried that the stranger he had rescued would attack him when his guard was down.

But they were home now, and the stranger was away from them. Surely the doctor would deduce that it was no person, as her appearance suggested, but a monster from another realm come to smite the lot of them with wicked magics. Zelda would order her execution, and they would all be safe, and Link’s silliness would be forgotten.

Navi yawned. She really was tired. It was an exhausting job, caring for Link’s welfare and constantly steering him out of the way of danger. It was even tougher when he so willingly flung himself in front of it. But now they would go to bed and rest. Perhaps, if Link was tired enough himself, he wouldn’t protest if she fell asleep on his pillow tonight…

Through half-lidded eyes, Navi turned her head as they began to descend the stairs. She blinked. Link’s chambers were _up_ another flight.

“Where are you going?” she asked.

“The doctor’s quarters,” Link replied. His voice was distant, as though he was troubled.

“The stranger?” Navi snorted in a manner most unlike the fae. “She’s fine. You did what you wanted, what’s the problem?”

“I want to make sure she’s alright.”

“Link!” Navi pulled herself up, using his earring for a hold. She poked his cheek. “I’m tired. I want to go to bed. You can see her tomorrow when she’s better.”

“You go if you’re tired,” Link said, not breaking stride. “I’ll see you up there.”

Navi pouted. She knew that he knew she wouldn’t go without him. So, she sulked at his earlobe, tugging a little harder than necessary on his earring as he broke into a jog and jostled her. He didn’t complain. He never did.

Reaching the doctor’s quarters, Navi saw a light shining from underneath the door. Link knocked and entered before he was called.

The doctor, an old, strong Zora, was bent over the woman, who was lying on the examining bed. Her eyes were closed, and Navi’s heard did a strange little leap. Was she dead?

No. Her chest was rising and falling in slow, deep breaths. She appeared to be sleeping. Navi pouted.

“How is she?” Link asked.

Navi wrinkled her nose. Link was staring intently at the stranger. No doubt, he was fascinated by how profoundly _ugly_ this woman was. Her skin was pale, almost yellowy in the lamplight, like gone off cream. Her nose turned up a little at the end, like one of those lap-dogs with squashed faces the noblewomen seemed so fond of. There was a smattering of light freckles across her nose, and to Navi, they looked like nothing more than spots of dirt. Her legs were long, yes, but the thighs were thick, her waist too narrow, her chest as full as a tart’s bodice! Navi shook her head.

“She is exhausted,” the doctor said, glancing up, before bending to her again. He thumbed her eyelids and peered into her ears. Ears, Navi noticed, that were small and _round_. “She is not unconscious, but sleeping a deep, deep sleep,” the doctor continued. To demonstrate, he twisted one of her ears. The woman frowned and raised a sluggish hand to bat away the Zora. Her hand fell to her side as he released her and her features relaxed.

“I can find no serious physical damage on her,” the doctor continued. “Save for some bruising when she hit the water, some rawness of the throat, and…” he looked suspiciously up at Link. “What appears to be a handprint on her left breast.”

Navi’s mouth fell open. She gaped at Link as his cheeks flooded with colour.

“I didn’t mean to,” he muttered. “I was just trying to get her out of the water.”

“Mind where you put your hands next time,” the doctor said, drily.

“I’ll remember that the next time I save you from drowning,” Link snapped. His cheeks flushed a deeper scarlet as the Zora gave him a pointedly exasperated look. Navi hid a smile behind her hand.

“If you’re finished,” the doctor said, pointing a finger to the door. Link stayed.

“If she’s just sleeping, perhaps she’s better in a real bed?” he suggested.

“I am keeping her for observation,” the doctor replied. He turned to the Hero, hands on his hips. “Rest assured Ser Link, she is in safe hands with me. Please, leave me to my work.”

Navi thought for a moment that Link was going to argue, but he nodded, and left.

He was silent as they made their way to their shared room. It was dark and cool inside, and Link didn’t bother lighting the candles. He pulled off his tunic and hat in the dark, and slipped into the bathroom to change into his sleeping clothes. Navi watched him go with a slight pout. She didn’t need candles to see when the moon was shining so brightly, but Link knew this. He would never embarrass her by changing fully in front of her. He was so respectful. A pity.

Navi fluttered across to the small wooden house on Link’s bedside table. It was an old dollhouse, and Navi thought it once belonged to Princess Zelda. She had been the one to suggest it, after all. It was painted with exquisite care, resembling the grand bedchambers of the castle, with miniature pictures containing tiny landscapes and portraits on the walls, carefully stitched rugs on the wooden floors, and devoid of all furniture except for a miniature, plush bed, but it was all Navi needed. It was enough to be close to Link as he slept. Though it was sometimes better when they slept outside, travelling or on one of their adventures, when all she had to do was complain that she was cold and he would allow her to curl up next to him, most often in the hollow of his throat, and drift peacefully off to sleep, the sound of his heartbeat in her ears.

He came out now, carefully in the dark. His outstretched fingers found a bedpost, and he swung onto the mattress with a sigh. He wriggled under the covers and rolled over, his back to the window, and Navi.

“G’night,” he mumbled.

“Goodnight Link,” Navi said, her eyes on the back of his head. Within moments, he was asleep. Navi smiled. He could fall asleep anywhere, she knew. And it was a good thing, too. Staying asleep had become hard for him. Often, she woke in the night to find him sitting up in bed. Eyes wide and staring into the dark. Or, she found him pacing the room, or standing on the balcony. The moment he realised she was awake, he would smile, make some excuse, and go back to bed, and to sleep.

Navi didn’t know what woke him in the night. But she wished he would share it with her.

She settled more snugly into her bed, and fell to remembering. She had travelled to the realm of the fae when she had first left Link, all those long centuries ago, when they had travelled across time together. Her task complete, she had returned home, where time was different to what it was in Hyrule.

Only a few short years passed for her, but when she returned to Hyrule, longing to see her friend again, she found the boy she knew long passed, and his ancestor in his place. A young man with the eyes of a beast, who had already endured a great many adventures. The memories of his past lives had already returned, and Navi smiled fondly as she remembered their meeting.

She had found him walking through a wood, deep in thought. Alone, he seemed almost sad, his eyes downcast, his stride slow. She followed him discreetly, hardly daring to believe that it really was him. He was older than she remembered, perhaps in his early twenties. He was taller. More rugged and muscular. And desperately handsome.

When he finally stopped by a pool, she had lit on a tree branch and called his name, softly.

He had turned, confused, hand reaching for the sword at his back. And he had frozen. He had stared. He had paled, and then his eyes had filled with tears. And he had said her name, a strangled hope in his voice.

“ _Navi_?”

Since then, they had been inseparable. For three years, she never left his side, save for the odd night spent with Zelda, whom Navi was delighted to find was the perfect reincarnation of the princess she once knew.

Navi vowed once more, as she had when she found him, that nothing would ever drive them apart again.


	4. 4 - Link

Link lay awake in the dark, his eyes closed, his breathing slow and steady. He heard the light tinkling of Navi’s wings fade into nothing as she settled down to sleep, heard the whisper of the wind hushing past the window.

The mattress on which he lay was thick and soft, stuffed with featherdown and thick wool and the goddesses only knew what else. The comfort was almost excessive, the sheets silken and the blankets made of the finest thread he had ever touched.

At first, he had hated it. Hated how he sunk so deep into the mattress that he had to fight every morning to disentangle himself from the bedding, hated how the softness was almost suffocating. Hated the thought of returning to his lumpy straw bed once the royals had had their fill gawping at him, and turfed him back out. Hated the thought of returning to poverty, to simplicity, to monotony.

But he had stayed, and Zelda had honoured him with his new title, the Chosen Knight of Hyrule. He was to remain by her side and guard her from all the evils the land had to offer. As the weeks and months passed, he had begun to relax, just a little, when alone in his room. When evening drew to a close and the night began, he could strip off the layers of the day and fall into extravagant luxury, when sleep met him like a lover each night.

 _How things have changed_ , he thought.

He thought of many things. Of the summer sky, the cool of Lake Hylia’s water. The battles he had fought, the woman who fell from the sky. The endless council meetings, the errands he would have to run for Zelda now there was a new strangeness in Hyrule. He sighed, softly.

Endless wars ran through his mind as he began to doze in the darkness. Over and over, he saw monsters and men fall to his blade. Each of their faces was etched into his memory, branded as if by iron. The thousand bites of cold steel as he was wounded, over and over in battle, each slice and stab adding a new, silver scar. The echoes of an ancient, sickening agony as his life was stolen from him as he aged, too slow to stop a blade or spear. Ganon bearing down upon him, jaws agape in a soundless roar of fury. The creature from the bottom of the well, skeletal hands grasping at his limbs as he struggled and screamed.

He scrunched up his face and tried to think of better things. A sunlit meadow, smelling of flowers and fresh-cut wheat. Long rides with Epona, the wind in his hair and freedom in his heart. He felt himself begin to drift as a calmness filled his mind. The great, old Deku tree, long since passed, but still standing in testimony to his hundreds of years of life as the Deku sprout grew taller with each passing year, eventually dwarfing the old stone oak. The forests of his childhood and the smiles of his friends.

Slowly, almost unnoticeably, Link slid from the land of the living into a world of dreams.

He found himself running through the Temple of Time, a heavy and useless Dominion Rod in his hands, weighing him down. The temple was dark, almost black, and the walls writhed with millions of tiny spiders.

Link cried out as they began to fall from the ceiling, dropping onto his head, his shoulders, his back. He could feel their legs all over him as they scurried under his tunic, under his hat, their feet like needles that stabbed at his skin. More spiders poured from the walls to squirm upon the floor.

With a wordless cry, he flung the Dominion Rod into the seething masses as he slapped at the spiders coursing over his body, scrabbling at his clothes in a terrifying mockery of a war dance. The sea of spiders was up to his knees now, and he stumbled, fighting to run as they covered him, his body turning black until he finally lost his balance and fell.

He landed on a cold stone floor in an echoingly empty chamber. The spiders had vanished, but Link cowered on the ground, curled in a ball. He clamped his hands over his ears and squeezed his eyes shut, moaning. He knew where he was.

His dream form found its feet, forced him to stand. He fought, but his legs moved, one after the other, his heels dragging as he tried to pull back, as his unwilling body was pushed closer and closer to the centre of the room. As his eyes were forced open, he saw it.

The dark alter in a forgotten temple.

Link’s eyes snapped open and he bolted upright, scrabbling for the knife under his pillow, brandishing it before him. He clenched his jaw as his heart flung itself against his ribs in a desperate, staccato beat. So far, he had always managed to keep from screaming.

He gripped the knife handle until it became painful, the blade shivering in his trembling hand. Slowly, he pressed the flat of the blade to his forearm and held it there, the cold steel a stark contrast to his fevered skin. He stared at it, the dull gleam of the blade almost tantalising in what it offered. After a moment, he lifted it, leaving nothing but a whisper of cool on his skin.

Link sighed, and set the blade down, tucking it back under the pillow. He climbed out from under the covers and tiptoed across the room, careful not to wake Navi as she snored softly in her small house. He reached his dresser, and eased open the middle drawer. Under the haphazardly folded clothes, he felt around until his fingers brushed a groove in the wood. He dug his nails in and lifted free the false bottom of the drawer.

Inside were several small bottles, each wrapped in cloth to stop them clinking together. Three were full. Link took one out, making a mental note to buy more from the eerie potions master that opened shop at midnight at the edge of town.

Link uncorked the bottle and tipped the contents into his mouth, grimacing. As always, the sleeping draught tasted of over-boiled cabbage, but he knew from experience that adding honey made the potion useless. Stoppering the empty bottle, Link placed it carefully back in the secret compartment and closed it, easing the drawer shut.

Drowsy, he returned to bed, the effects of the potion taking hold. As he lay down, his last conscious thought was the hope that he wouldn’t have to rely on the potions for the rest of his life.


	5. 5 - Zelda

Zelda stepped prudently through the grand library, arms loaded with scrolls of parchment. She browsed the shelves with a keen eye, knowing each like the back of her hand. The library was huge, no, it was immense. Her grandmother had commandeered five of the castle’s grand rooms on the fourth floor and knocked down the walls, to better store all the knowledge of the land that had been gathered over the centuries, gathering dust and haphazardly grouped in random rooms. It was quite a sight to behold, and Zelda offered prayers of gratitude almost daily to the goddesses, that the library had not been touched in the explosion that destroyed the throne room nearly a decade ago.

The shelves were a burnished, brown-red wood, lit by the soft light of many magic lamps. The floor was a copper-coloured marble, covered with soft rugs to hush her footsteps. In the centre, by a grand fireplace, were several squashy sofas, tall-backed armchairs, and low tables. Alcoves held desks with parchment, ink, and quills.

Zelda spent as much time as she could here. She had spent all her free time browsing the shelves as a child, learning and memorising. She knew where the history scrolls were, where the medical texts sat, where the fables and legends of Hyrule lay. She knew everything about the place. She even knew that tales of secret passages hidden in the library were false. She had spent months exploring every nook and cranny, and no such secret had ever been found.

The scrolls she carried were old, and full of history, of myths, and of legends. Somewhere in there, there would be the telling of what had happened today.

Rounding a corner, Zelda reached up and tugged a book out from between its brothers. She added it to her scrolls. Hurrying now, she moved to another shelf and took down another book. Her arms were growing heavy, and she cast another look about the library. She wanted more, but knew it would be foolish to carry too much.

Sighing, she left, feeling the familiar, melancholy feeling of leaving the warm light behind. She made her way back up to her chambers, climbing the narrowing flights of stairs carefully, unable to see where she was putting her feet under the bundle of parchment. Panting slightly as she reached her door, she shouldered her way inside and carefully placed everything on her cluttered desk.

She sank into her chair and picked up the first book, Hyrule’s Historia. It was the eighteenth edition, and as up to date as a historical book could be. After the Twilight Crisis, she had commissioned her bibliophiles and historians to update the work. It had taken years to gather the information, interviewing her, Link, and many others, and then to work their new findings into the book. But they had done it, and it was masterful.

Though she had read it half a hundred times, Zelda wondered if she would find some new pattern within its pages. She let her fingers trace the words without seeing, hoping for some stirring within herself that sometimes directed her to where she had to look.

She felt nothing. Sighing, she put the Historia down and reached for the closest scroll. This was an old text, written in ancient Hylian. She didn’t know what it said yet, but she felt it was important. She scanned the text, hoping for some spark or tingle, then read more slowly, beginning the arduous process of translating the ancient letters into their modern alphabet, and then the words into their language.

It was a scroll of prophecies. Mostly nonsense, or irrelevant. Zelda snorted as she read “ _When the apple is bitten, the world shall become blind and throw their coin into the void_.” What on earth did that mean?

Her heart jumped a little as she read “ _Be wary of she, she of eyes of green that glow in the black of night,_ ” but then she remembered that she didn’t actually know what colour the stranger’s eyes were, and realised it likely related to the dark fairy, a tricksy little creature that had caused no end of trouble when she had decided to live in the castle kitchens a few years ago. Link had sorted out that problem for them.

Zelda smiled as she remembered him going into the kitchens alone, armed only with a glass bottle, the door swinging shut behind him. A great crashing and banging had sounded inside for almost an hour, before he emerged, covered in flour and his tunic lightly smoking, holding the bottle, which contained the furious dark fairy. The bottle now sat in her researcher’s lab; the fairy studied, questioned, and ultimately forgotten about.

She sighed and put the scroll down. It was very late. Zelda resolved to read one more before bed.

She picked up another at random and sighed. It was written in ancient Hylian again. She laboriously began to translate, her eyes beginning to itch, longing to close.

The scroll was almost entirely nonsense; a rambling, practically incoherent jumble of half-constructed sentences that made even less sense than the first. It was almost as though the author had two minds, and both were trying to write at the same time.

“ _Leave the path to the orchard sat waiting at the table for breakfast. Mother enters the chamber green lichen eats the moonbright.”_ Zelda yawned. “ _Fall the path on your knees swallowed the shivering._ _Dark times may befall Hyrule when a dark stranger comes. Yoke the mules to the pit of ancients bringing the tavern locales picture frame. Take your canvas bags…_ ”

Zelda jerked, the scroll slipping from her fingers. She pulled it back up, her eyes wide. She scanned the scroll for the words that had suddenly registered in her mind. A prophecy. She knew it in her bones.

“ _Dark times may befall Hyrule when a dark stranger comes._ ”

Dark times. A dark stranger. Zelda shivered. The woman Link had rescued had been dressed all in black, and her hair was a waterfall of pitch.

All thoughts of sleep gone, Zelda pulled a fresh roll of parchment to her, dipped her favourite, white quill, and began to write.


	6. 6 - Link

Link rose the next morning with the sun, groggy from the after effects of the potion. He struggled to disentangle himself from the featherdown blankets and set his feet on the cool floor with a grumble.

Rubbing his eyes and yawning, he ambled into the bathroom, splashing cold water on his face. It didn’t help much. He leaned on the sink, staring blearily into the eyes of his reflection as water ran down his cheeks to drip steadily off his chin. His image looked as exhausted as he felt.

He ran a hand over his jaw, feeling coarse stubble. He eyed the razor folded on the edge of the sink, and shook his head. He would shave later. As tired as he was, he was more likely to slip and slit his own throat.

He went back into the bedroom, as Navi rose from her miniature bed, stretching and yawning.

“Morning,” he greeted her.

“Good morning,” she replied, dreamily, flopping back to the small mattress and propping her chin on her hand, cocking one leg up so her toes pointed to the ceiling.

“Sleep well?” he asked, enviously.

“Always,” she replied. She stood, taking care to adjust her shift. She smiled. “I’m hungry.”

“Me too,” Link said, though he didn’t feel it. He dressed quickly, and Navi fluttered to his shoulder and perched there, holding on to his earring as he made for the door. Link fought not to twitch his ear. Her grasp was uncomfortable, and her wings itched at his neck, but he said nothing. He was grateful she had returned to him, after all these years. And the three they had spent together had been full of adventure, excitement, strife, and…

The alter.

Link stumbled, caught off guard.

“What’s the matter?” Navi said, squeaking into his ear.

“Nothing,” Link said quickly. “Just tripped.”

“On what?” Navi asked, glancing about. The floor was even, smooth carpet.

“I don’t know,” Link said, more shortly than he meant to. The dark memory squatted in his mind like a great, bulbous toad. He hurried away from it towards the stairs, taking care not to jostle the fairy too much as he went.

Reaching the Great Hall, Link saw many of the castle’s esteemed peoples already seated for breakfast. In place of the enormous dining tables that dominated the Hall for special occasions, there were several smaller tables scattered decoratively about the place, with the King’s Table placed directly in front of the fireplace in the centre of the room.

General Balla, an old, grizzled, bear of a man, sat alone by the great windows, sipping tea and reading a sheaf of parchment. A few tables away from him sat Councillors Trebon and Llewellyn, enjoying a large, cooked breakfast and a bowl of porridge, respectively. The Zora ambassador, seated with her delegates, attacked a large plate of smoked mackerel, the pungent scent heavy in the air. Servants waited patiently by the walls, holding pots of steaming tea, jugs of cool water or milk, or floated quietly through the room, removing plates or placing desired dishes on the tables. Balla waved for more bacon over the low buzz of conversation that filled the hall.

Impa, Zelda’s advisor, nanny, and oldest friend, sat at the King’s Table, to the left of Princess Zelda, methodologically dismembering a satsuma. Princess Zelda had barely touched her own food, a few rounds of buttered toast. She looked as exhausted as Link felt, but she was engaged in animated conversation with her father, King Rhoam, who was nodding along slowly at the head of the table as she gestured excitedly.

Link raised his eyebrows. King Rhoam had been increasingly unwell for years, and few had seen him outside his chambers in months. Once a giant of a man, near seven feet tall and broad with it, he now seemed shorter, smaller, and greyer. His eyes were bagged, and there were deep lines on his forehead that hadn’t been there before.

But his eyes still held the glint of power, the spark of intelligence that swept away the muted rumours about his failing mental health.

In the middle of her sentence, Zelda looked across the room and saw him.

“Link!” she called. She rose gracefully, and beckoned with an elegant, gloved hand. “Come, sit with us.”

Link had no choice but to obey. Rhoam’s eyes had followed his daughter’s, and were now fixed upon him. Link approached with what he hoped was a respectful speed.

“Your Grace,” he greeted the King first with an appropriately deep bow. “Your Highness. Lady Impa.” He bowed to all.

“Have a seat, Ser Link,” Rhoam said, gesturing. Link obeyed.

“My daughter has informed me of the successful defeat of the Moblin Rebellion,” Rhoam said, as Link tucked himself under the table. Navi flittered across to Zelda and settled on her shoulder, chattering in her ear and accepting the bit of toast Zelda offered her. “I understand you played an integral part in our victory. You have my congratulations, and my thanks.”

“Thank you,” Link said, as a servant poured tea into his cup. He tried unsuccessfully to relax his shoulders. “I only did what I had to for Hyrule.”

“Of course,” Rhoam said. “I have no doubt in your abilities. It seems there is no rest for the worthy, however.”

“Father,” Zelda said, in gentle chastisement. “Link deserves a rest after all he has done for us.”

“I agree,” Rhoam said. “However, your research suggests difficult times may yet be ahead.”

Link’s heart plummeted as a servant laid a plate of steaming meat and eggs before him. Navi helped herself to more toast and marched across the table to dunk it in one of Link’s eggs, splashing yolk over the plate.

“What… research, Your Highness?” Link asked cautiously. Zelda smiled, tightly.

“It’s not much,” she said. “But some very old writings speak of ill times ahead. I believe the quote was ‘ _dark times may befall Hyrule when a dark stranger comes._ ’” She looked up at Link, almost guiltily.

“A dark stranger, much like the woman Zelda has told me about,” King Rhoam said, gravely. “A woman who _you_ brought to the castle.” He studied Link, who avoided meeting the King’s eye. “My daughter tells me she fell from the sky.”

“Yes, Your Grace,” Link said to Rhoam’s left shoulder. “I did what I thought was best.”

“Indeed,” Rhoam said. “My servants tell me she is still sleeping. She has been moved from the doctor’s quarters to her own chambers, and is guarded. We will proceed with caution.”

“Father,” Zelda began, slowly. “The prophecy suggests she may bring trouble to Hyrule. Perhaps it is best if we… clip the rose of its thorns?”

Rhoam turned slowly to look at her. “My child, you should know better. Prophecies can have numerous meanings. It was written amongst nonsense, as most prophecies often are. They can be interpreted in many ways.”

“This seems very clear to me, Father,” Zelda replied. “A dark stranger…”

“Could well be a man with dark hair visiting the town,” Rhoam said, in a tone that brooked no argument. “Simply because she appeared in mysterious circumstances does not make her a threat. Unless she shows she means us harm, she is our guest, and will be treated with every courtesy. We must not be distracted in case the dark stranger refers to the King of Thieves come again.”

Zelda bit her lip, though it seemed to Link as though she wanted to say something more. Privately, Link agreed with her, though perhaps not the clipping the rose part. The sky opening and spitting out a person with dark hair and round ears could not mean anything good.

Rhoam rose from the table, and the cacophony of scraping chairs indicated that the rest of the hall had risen as well. Link hurried to stand and almost knocked his chair over.

“Ser Link,” the king said. “Chosen Knight. Whilst I understand your need to save the people of this land, I do agree that this is a strange happening. As it was you who brought this stranger here, I charge you to keep watch over her, and report any unusual or suspicious behaviours. I trust I can leave it to your judgement if you feel the need to…” he cast a glance at his daughter. “Prune the metaphorical garden.”

“Yes, Your Grace,” Link said, and Rhoam departed, his stride steady, despite his illness.

Zelda remained at the table, her eyes sad. Link returned to his seat as she prodded at her toast.

“He never believes me,” she said, quietly. “But he is wise, and I trust his judgement.” She looked to Link, her eyes shining. “You will keep watch over the stranger?”

“Thoria,” Link reminded her, gently. “I will. If anything happens, you’ll be the first to know.”

Zelda sighed. “Thank you, Link. I’m sorry to have caused this extra work for you.”

Link quirked the corner of his mouth in a soft smile. “It is my honour to serve you, my Princess.”

Zelda returned his smile, finally picked up her toast and took a bite. Link picked up his fork and pulled his plate towards him, suddenly ravenous.

He and Zelda talked of small things for a while, and by the time they left the table and walked together through the castle, she seemed considerably cheered. She moved away in the direction of the library, pointing Link in the direction of Thoria’s new chambers. Link walked the last stretch of corridor alone, finally coming to an unremarkable door, guarded by two men in armour. Link sighed, and approached the door.


	7. 7 - Navi

Link bounced back with a muted oath as the door flew open and the Zora doctor came out, dropping his medical bag in surprise. Navi fluttered off Link’s shoulder as he bent to pick up the bag at the same time as the doctor, the two crashing together and swearing at the same time.

“Mind yourself, Ser Link!” the doctor said, snatching the bag from the ground and clutching his head. “How am I expected to work if you injure me so!”

“I’m sorry,” Link said. “I wasn’t expecting you to come out.” His cheek was red where he had collided with the Zora, and Navi lit lightly on his shoulder once more, rubbing the spot gently with her fingers, whispering soothing words. Link’s ear twitched, and he raised his hand to his cheek, knocking Navi off balance. She flicked his ear, but he took no notice of her.

“You must take more care,” the doctor scolded. “Besides. You are not needed here.”

Link stiffened. “Princess Zelda ordered me to watch over Thoria,” he said, his voice hardening. Navi felt her skin prickle with a delightful tingle. How she loved his authoritative voice.

“Orders or not, it is pointless,” the doctor said, placing a hand on Link’s shoulder and moving him aside. “She is still sleeping and will remain so, and she is to be disturbed under _no_ circumstances. I have given her a sleeping draught to ensure she gets the rest she needs.”

“I won’t disturb her if I’m just watching her,” Link retorted, a flush creeping up his neck.

The doctor gave Link a scathing look. “It would seem you cannot walk through a door without causing harm. You are to stay away from her until she is recovered.”

Link turned as the Zora began to walk away. “So, what am I supposed to do then?”

The Zora did not even spare them a glance. “I cannot fathom why I should care, Ser Link. But _do_ try not to give any other important Royal staff a concussion.”

Navi felt Link’s muscles bunch under his tunic as he clenched his fists. He glared after the doctor as he swept away, saying nothing. Navi shot a look to the two guards by the door, who were looking at each other with raised brows. They saw, averted their gaze and marched a respectable distance away before Link turned back to the door.

“Wait,” Navi said, as he reached for the handle. “If the doctor says that woman’s going to be sleeping all day, there’s not much point in watching her, is there?”

“I have my orders,” Link said, though his fingers hovered over the handle.

“Zelda would understand,” Navi said. “Besides, the doctor said you weren’t needed, and she wasn’t to be disturbed. We could do with getting that day off that we didn’t get to finish.”

Link hesitated, his fingers still held above the handle. “I suppose,” he said, slowly.

“It would do you good,” Navi urged. “We should go into town, or out into Hyrule. Epona could probably do with another ride.”

“I… I have my orders,” Link said, and he reached for the door again.

“How long ago was it when you went to visit Ordon Village?” Navi asked. Link froze.

“Too long,” he replied. “But there will be time to visit another day.”

“What about Ilia?” Navi asked, quietly in his ear.

Link was still for a long moment, his fingertips lightly brushing the burnished gold of the handle. Slowly, his head lowered. He took half a step away from the door. Navi held her breath. She waited as Link stared at the door as intently as he would a puzzle. Finally, he sighed. “Yes. I should visit.”

Navi held herself in check as he turned away, though inside, she was dancing. They would spend the day together, away from this new danger, where she could keep him safe. Navi snuggled into Link’s collar and grinned to herself. She was getting better at convincing him to listen properly.

She clung to his earring as he jogged down the many stairs, out into the early morning sunshine, and over the vast grounds to the stables. As always, Navi took a moment to view the grounds from her lofty perch. The grass was as green as she had ever seen it, the scorch marks and craters in the ground long since covered up. The walls of the castle and surrounding grounds had been repaired beautifully, and she could barely even see where they had been patched any more.

Dreamily, she remembered Link assisting in the repairs, his strong arms bulging with muscle as he hefted stone and hauled wood, cementing the stone together and holding it tightly whilst the court mages wove spells into the walls to strengthen them.

The sun was warm above them, not yet hot, and Navi guessed, if Link stopped dawdling along at the pace he was going, they would reach Ordon before the middle of the day.

Epona nickered warmly as they entered the stable, the hot smells of old hay and horse dung assailing Navi’s sensitive nose. Link patted the auburn horse as she nuzzled him, nibbling his tunic affectionately.

Too slowly, it seemed to Navi, a stable boy brought the tack and attached it to Epona. Not soon enough did Link swing into the saddle and guide his horse into the sun. She glanced at the castle as Link urged Epona into a trot, hoping that Zelda didn’t see them leaving. Orders were orders, after all, but she felt deep in her fair, fae bones that the longer they stayed away from the stranger, the better off they would all be. She rubbed her neck, feeling eyes on the back of her head. Link’s safety was more important than some silly task.

But soon they had passed under the great portcullis, had cantered through the gates that separated them from the surrounding fields, and were galloping across the grass. Navi felt her heart lift the further away they travelled, the ground a blur under Epona’s hooves.

Link focussed on the surrounding land as they went, his sharp eyes sweeping the fields and road and sky. Above, a dark shape circled. Link saw it, and slowed Epona from a gallop to a canter. In one fluid movement, he drew his bow and nocked an arrow, sighting down it as he aimed at the sky. Navi clung to his shoulder, watching. The shape was too high, his angle was too far to the north…

Link released the arrow and tucked his bow away again, watching. With a squawk, the kargarok seemed to curl in on itself as it plummeted to the earth, pierced by a true shot. Link gave a grunt of satisfaction as it hit the ground ahead of them, and didn’t spare it another glance as he nudged Epona’s sides and drove her into a gallop once more.

Navi whooped, congratulating the Hero on another successful defeat of a monster. He said nothing, and bent lower over the horse’s neck. Navi wanted to stay and stare at his face, but the force of Epona’s running whipped up winds too strong for the fairy, and Navi pulled herself along Link’s hairline and wriggled under his hat. It was so much easier to sit here, safe from the buffeting gales.

She made herself comfortable, and played with a few strands of Link’s hair. It was dark under his hat, too dark to see, but she didn’t need to. She could nap, she could daydream, she could do anything she wanted here, on top of her world.

Navi did sleep, after a while spent plaiting strands of hair and stroking the softness of it. Link adjusted his hat a few times, nudging her accidentally with his fingers each time, but she paid no mind. He didn’t mean to bump into her, so she said nothing, and carried on playing with his hair, flexing her feet and rubbing his scalp with her toes. It must have felt nice, because he didn’t adjust his hat again after that. She drifted off curled in a woven blanket of his hair.

She came awake as she became aware that they were slowing, Epona’s hoofbeats sounding over wood, not earth. Navi peeped out from under Link’s hat. They were crossing the Ordonian bridge now, and were almost there. The trees grew thick and close together, and what grass was able to push up from beneath the forest debris was a deeper, lusher green than the yellowy-gold of Hyrule Field’s grass. The sun was well into the sky, shining down upon them, slanting through the branches in beams of mote-filled gold.

She wriggled out, stretching her wings and flying next to Link as he tugged his hat off and scratched his head furiously with both hands, messing up his hair and spoiling the weaved pattern she had made. Navi pouted, but said nothing. He looked very silly with his hair all standing on end, and he tugged his hat back on with a grunt.

They rounded a bend, and Link pulled Epona to a halt, sliding from the saddle and stretching. He looked up at the tree they stood next to, the tree with a platform and a tiny little house in it.

Navi followed his gaze. It was the home he had grown up in, she knew from the last time they had visited, over a year ago. Link patted Epona absently and led her to the rain barrel, allowing her to drink as he moved to the wooden ladder and climbed up, his hands fitting almost perfectly in the worn grooves. Navi followed.

Inside was much the same as it had been the last time they were here, if much dustier. The itchy and lumpy straw mattress, the woven, patchwork blanket, the simple kitchen and tiny table. The interior balcony and little round window. Navi fluttered to a shelf and blew dust pointedly off one of the pots.

“This place could do with a clean,” she said.

Link nodded absently. His face held a strange expression as he looked around.

“Sixteen years here,” he said, softly. “Who would have thought I would be where I am now.”

Navi smiled. “Anyone could see you were destined for greatness.”

“Huh?” Link turned. “Oh. Right. Yeah.”

“You never told me why your house is so far away from all the others,” Navi said.

“Didn’t I?” Link wandered forward, running a hand over a shelf, disturbing dust. He didn’t seem to notice as Navi coughed delicately.

“It’s stuffy in here,” she said. “Let’s go.”

Link cast another look about the little room. “In a minute. I want to stay for a while.”

“Why?” Navi asked. “It’s tiny and stuffy. I’m going to get my dress dirty. It’s not like your rooms at the castle.”

“No, it’s not,” Link agreed. He eased himself into one of the chairs at the tiny table. “It’s very different.”

Navi waited, patiently at first, as Link clasped his hands and withdrew into himself, his head bowed. She hated it when he did this. It could be hours before he came back from the thoughts in his head, and he never shared them with her. If she pulled him out too quickly, he would be short and snappy with her, in a mood for the rest of the day. She sighed and settled on the shelf. It wasn’t very fair of him to do this now, when they could have a whole day together.

But to her surprise, Link rose quickly and suddenly, so suddenly that the chair fell over.

“Come on,” he said, and he left. Navi had to dart through the door before it swung shut, Link already climbing down the ladder. He pulled Epona away from the straw dummy with the painted ring on its chest as she nibbled at its arm, and led her towards the village. Navi flew behind, tinkling indignantly.

Rounding the bend, Ordon village appeared before them, a little bigger and more crowded than when they had last visited. Another house had been built, in addition to the other two Link had said were new the last time they came.

The sun was high in the sky, and the villagers were bustling about. Navi couldn’t remember their names, it had been so long since they were last there, and she admittedly hadn’t paid that much attention last time. Link paused, staring at the scene. The waterwheel creaked in the stream, the sound audible over the rushing water and softly chattering birds. In the distance, a goat bleated.

A young, blonde man with a bit of a silly haircut was sitting on a stump by the fence, whittling something and whistling. His forearms were corded with muscle and tanned a deep brown, though a line of pale skin showed just under the sleeves of his shirt. He flicked away a curl of wood and looked up, catching sight of them all standing there. His eyes went wide, and he leapt up with a shout.

“Link!”

Link jumped and stared. His mouth opened.

“No…” he said. “Colin!”

He dropped Epona’s reins and dove forwards, catching the younger man in a bear hug. Laughing, they swung back and forth, clapping each other on the back and wrestling to and fro.

“You’ve grown so much!” Link exclaimed, finally releasing the other man. “You’re taller than me!”

“And you’ve barely changed,” the other said, his smile so wide it looked painful. “I’m sorry I missed you last time you were here, I can’t believe the one week I was running trade to Kakariko…”

“I’m sorry I haven’t been back,” Link said. “I’ve been… I mean I-“

“You’ve been busy,” the young man said. Corrin? Was that his name? Navi pouted. Link hadn’t introduced her. “I understand, we’re all busy nowadays. But you’re here now, that’s what matters. Hey, come on, everyone will be so pleased…”

Link allowed himself to be pulled along behind _Corrin_ as he moved away, calling to the other villagers. “Hey, everybody! Link’s back!”

In moments, the air was full of flying pumpkins, bundles of wood and dust kicked up by the feet of the many eager villagers charging forth to enclose Link in a tight, many-way embrace of welcome. Each jostled the others, laughing and calling out, reaching forwards to hug, pat, and grasp the hands of the Hero in their midst. Link smiled, laughed, and shared in a quip and a joke. He barely looked at Navi, who fluttered ever more sullenly above. Eventually, scowling, she flew to Epona and sat on her head, her coarse white hair nothing compared to the soft, thick strands on Link’s head.

“This was _my_ idea,” she said. “The least he could do is mention me.”

Epona flicked her ear and nickered. To Navi, it seemed like agreement.


	8. 8 - Link

Link allowed himself to be buffeted from side to side, grasping hands and feeling a rain of slaps on his back and shoulders. Almost every face in the sea of smiles before him was familiar, though they were older, more mature, more lined, and a little greyer than he remembered. There were a few new faces, and they were more reserved, yet smiling nonetheless.

The air was full of cheerful laughter and genuine smiles. It was a far cry from the hushed reverence he had encountered when he first returned home after the defeat of Ganon. The way the villagers had seemed almost afraid to look at him, grappling with their burning desire to gawp had made him feel like more of an outcast than he felt in the castle. Because here, he was meant to be at home.

Now things were different. With each of his infrequent visits back to the village, the Ordonians had become calmer around him, falling back into their old ways. Though they still stared at him with wide-eyed adoration and astonishment, it felt more relaxed, more open. More like home. Almost imperceptibly, the tension in his shoulders lessened, and the smile on his face became true.

“You must come for supper at my house,” Sera called out.

“No, my house, I’ll make pumpkin soup!” cried Jaggle.

“Hope you’ve got time to herd some goats!” Fado yelled, to much amusement.

“Okay, break it up, break it up!” a familiar voice boomed.

“Bo!” Link said, as the fiercely-moustachioed mayor parted the crowd and seized him by the shoulders. “It’s been too lon- _oof_!” Bo crushed him in a tight hug.

“It has my boy, you shouldn’t leave it so long between visits,” Bo smiled down at him. He was still a good head taller than Link, who had grown almost a foot since he had first left the village, though his moustache was shot through with streaks of grey and white. “Now, come on, I’ll get you something to eat and we can catch up.”

“Oh Bo, don’t keep him all to yourself now,” a female voice called. It was a lady Link didn’t recognise, with fiery red hair and wicked grey eyes.

“You’ll all get your turn,” Bo laughed. He patted Link on the shoulder and steered him towards his house.

“Hang on, Epona-“ Link turned, spotting Fado leading the horse towards the ranch already.

“In good hands,” Bo said, hand still guiding Link forwards, the crowd of villagers following like clucking cuccos.

“I’ve not seen everybody,” Link said. “Where’s Rusl? Uli? Beth?” he paused. “Ilia?”

“Uli and Rusl have taken Lilu to the spring,” Bo said. “They’ll be back by the evening. Beth is somewhere with Talo. You know those two have begun a relationship this last season?”

“What?” Link laughed. “Of course they have! What does Malo have to say about that?”

“Not much, he is still running his business in Kakariko,” Bo said. “That takes up most of his time.”

They entered into Bo’s house at last, the chatter of the villagers suddenly cut off as the door swung shut. Link glanced about, remembering Navi. He swore under his breath as he failed to spot her bright glow. But she would be fine, the villagers would ply her with fruit and wine as they had before. Bo moved to the table and poured two glasses of mead from a barrel, bringing them over. Guiltily, Link accepted. Mead was one of Navi’s favourites, she would be furious that he had left her, but…

“Ilia?” he asked again, as Bo lowered himself into a chair. Link slid into the one opposite. Up close and away from the crowd, Link could see grey stubble on Bo’s cheeks, cheeks that drooped a little more than they had before. The lines on his forehead were deeper above eyes that flickered to his own, and away again.

“Gone,” Bo said, darkly. Link’s heart dropped into his boots.

“What?” he choked. “No, I only saw her last year-“

“Not dead,” Bo said, waving a solemn hand. Link gasped with relief, pressing a hand to his chest. “Moved away. It seems she… fell pregnant not long after your last visit. That was quite the scandal.”

Link felt the blood drain from his face as Bo met his eyes. There was no warmth there, no hint of a smile or a jape. Just a man, a powerful man, a father, and an unspoken accusation hanging in the air. Link swallowed.

“I don’t know what to say,” he said, cautiously. “But Bo… I had nothing to do with that.”

“The last time you were here, you spent the evening with her, alone, in your home,” Bo said. His tone was even. “Ilia was a different woman after that, distant and quiet, taking long walks alone in the woods at night. Are you saying you… did not dishonour her?”

“I didn’t,” Link said. “I couldn’t. Not Ilia.”

And it was true. The night Link had last come to Ordon village was just over a year ago. He hadn’t been in his right mind. He had sought the safety of home, the comfort of familiarity. He had sought out his oldest friend, and they had sat together in his treehouse, just the two of them, talking of nothing and drinking smooth cider, Navi drunk on honeywine and snoring at the table. The light had faded and his heart had begun to race, the darkness closing in. Ilia had leaned forward, her hand on his thigh, sliding up. His heart loud in his ears as she brushed her fingers over the front of his trousers. Her lips had pressed against his own.

Link looked away from the mayor. The memory was not one he was proud of. How he had leapt away with a cry, and she had fallen to the floor. How he had scrabbled back, his heart pounding against his ribs, a scream building in his throat as the lone candle conjured flickering shadows that danced along the walls. Her eyes, wide and confused in the dim light. How he had all but flung himself out of the treehouse. What Ilia must have thought…

“I never dishonoured her,” he said. “Not like that.”

“Then we do not know who the father of the child is,” Bo said. “Ilia refuses to tell.”

Link stared into his mug of mead. Ilia, suddenly a mother. The father unknown.

“Where is she?” he asked, quietly. “Is she alright?”

“She and her son are fine,” Bo said, and Link was relieved to hear the slightest warmth return to his voice. “She left of her own volition, and I visit frequently with food and supplies. My grandson has quite the pair of lungs.” He chuckled. “Now I know you are not to blame for her situation, I can cross your name off my list.”

“You mean to find the father?”

“I mean for him to come forward and be a supportive husband,” Bo said. “My daughter deserves better than that.”

Link bit his lip. As an unwed mother, Ilia was doomed to a life of singledom. Few enough men would want her for a wife, as she already bore the child of another. Those that did would be the very dregs of society, scorned by the rest of the women because they were gamblers, drunkards, or wife-beaters. It would have been different if she were widowed but… he shook himself. It was a hard life that lay before her. Bo would not be able to support her forever. He clenched his fists under the table, his leather gloves creaking.

“Why did you think it was me?” Link asked. “If I… if we had… I wouldn’t have left her.”

Bo nodded. “I know. I knew in my heart you would have done the honourable thing. But the truth is, the boy has your look about him, though now that I think of it, you and Ilia looked much the same as children.”

“We did,” Link said, and grinned. “Do you remember when we swapped clothes and tried to pretend to be each other for the day?”

Bo laughed. “I do! Funny how you can’t change the colour of your eyes.”

“Ah, everyone played along,” Link said, shaking his head and taking a sip of mead. “It’s embarrassing, now that I look back on it. How foolish we were as children.”

“It’s not foolishness,” Bo disagreed gently. “A child lacks the experience of life to be foolish.”

“That’s true. I’d like to visit her, Bo. I want to see her and make sure she is alright.”

Before Bo could say another word, the door burst open. Rusl shouldered his way inside as Link leapt up, hand flying to the sword at his back. Link dropped his hand as though burned, as Rusl came forth and grabbed him in a fierce hug.

“Ah, Link! It has been far too long,” he said. He stepped back, eyes roving over his face. “I swear, you haven’t changed a bit!”

“Just taller,” Link grinned, noting how he was indeed now taller than his old friend.

“And cheekier,” Rusl slapped his shoulder good-naturedly. “Bo, are you done with him? Uli is already cooking for us all!”

Bo grinned. “All of us? I better tell the rest of the village.” His eyes brightened. “We’ll all cook something and make a feast of it!” He bustled out the door, calling the news to the villagers.

Rusl’s smile faded somewhat as Bo went. He looked seriously at Link.

“Did Bo tell you of Ilia?”

“He did,” Link said. “And how he thought I was the father.”

Rusl nodded. “It did seem a bit suspect,” he admitted. “But Ilia spent many a late night out after you left. Those of us who knew you best knew it wasn’t you. She must have met someone else she was keeping a secret.”

“She did try with me,” Link said, softly. “But I couldn’t. She was like a sister to me.”

Rusl sighed. “Ah, love is a strange thing. It feels one way for one person, and quite another for someone else. It is rarely fair.”

Link sighed. “It’s so obvious to me now, the way she felt. I didn’t see it at the time.”

“Those closest rarely do,” Rusl said. “You become accustomed to one another, and then feelings grow, or they don’t. It is one of the most tragic japes the goddesses play, showering one with feelings of love, but not the other. The girl was besotted with you.”

“I should have been kinder,” Link said. “I should have seen it and…”

“And what? You did not feel the same. It would have been crueller of you to pretend,” Rusl said, patting his shoulder.

Link nodded. “You were lucky with Uli.”

“I was. You’ll be lucky too, one day.”

Link tightened his jaw as the shadows at the corners of his mind gathered. But he forced a smile. “Maybe.”

“Come on,” Rusl said. “Let’s go help Uli and Colin. Lad’s seventeen and I swear he’s more man than me some days.”

“Seventeen?” Link swayed. “He was a child just yesterday, I swear it.”

“You and me both, son. You and me both.”

XXXXXXX

It wasn’t long before cushions and rugs were brought before Bo’s house, and piles of steaming vegetables, bowls of pumpkin soup and plates of roast goat were gathered. As the last of the places were set, Link was knocked off his feet by an overjoyed Talo as he arrived back with Beth, who joined them on the ground, both clinging to his tunic and laughing fit to burst, talking over each other excitedly and vying for his attention.

The villagers sat to eat, and there was a bit of a scrum to determine who got to sit next to Link. He ended up with Colin on one side and the red-headed woman on the other. She gave him a wry and decidedly seductive look as he glanced her way. Uncomfortable, he focused on the feast before him.

“Tell us something of your adventures,” Beth called from the opposite side of the rug as Link piled his plate with food. “What battles have you fought? Have you explored any hidden places? What’s it like living in the palace? How-“

“Let him eat, Beth,” Talo chided her softly. The pair of them had grown into almost unrecognisable people. Talo was short, but stocky, and he had grown a short, but full beard. Beth was slender as a reed and beautiful with it, and Link did not miss the eyes of several villagers drawn to her over and over as she giggled behind her hand. But she had eyes only for Talo.

“In truth, I’ve not done much,” Link said. “I protect the princess and serve her as her chosen knight.”

“What does that mean you do?” Colin asked, eagerly. His eyes shone with the near-worship that they had done when they were children.

“Bugger all,” Link said, taking a bite of roast goat. It was seasoned well, and tasted of home. He tried to ignore the red-haired woman as she shuffled a little closer to him, her knee touching his.

Colin laughed loudly as the other villagers chuckled. Link cast a look around for Navi, but he could not see her. He shook his head. She had probably found a barrel of beer to fly into.

“Royal life must be dull,” Jaggle said, his mouth full. “All those sweetmeats to eat and poems to write.”

“Well, Zelda runs the country,” Link said. “So, she’s busy all the time. And I have to keep her safe.”

“From parchment and ink?” Jaggle laughed, loudly.

“From assassins, moblin rebellions, dark magic and more,” Link said. He felt a strange heat in his chest. “Her Highness is at great risk due to her importance.”

“You fight off bad guys?” said Lilu, shyly. Colin’s sister was nine years old, born just after the twilight left the land of Hyrule. She was tiny and sweet. Link felt his anger ebb away at her innocent gaze.

“I do,” he said. “Lots of them.”

“You keep us safe? Papa says so.”

“I try,” Link said.

“Well, let’s hope that there’s no more trouble to come,” Bo said. “Hyrule has seen enough of it for one lifetime.”

The villagers murmured in agreement as Link lowered his gaze to his plate, his appetite sliding away. His thoughts were drawn back to the castle, back to the strange woman who had fallen from the sky, and the line of prophecy that Zelda had discovered. He shouldn’t be here.

“Dark times will befall Hyrule when a dark stranger comes,” he muttered under his breath, taking a bite of goat without tasting it.

As the meal ended and the plates were cleared away, Link rose.

“I need to be getting back,” he said, to cries of dismay from the villagers. He raised his hands placatingly. “I’d love to stay. But I can’t, I have work to do. I’ll come back soon.”

“Next time, stay for a few days at least!” Fado said. “I’ll go get Epona for you.”

“Are you sure you won’t stay for just a bit longer? Uli asked.

“I wish I could,” Link said, taking her hand. “I won’t leave it so long before I’m back this time.”

He hugged Uli, then Rusl, Jaggle, Beth, Talo, and the others. The red-haired woman approached, her arms outstretched and Link reluctantly obliged, not knowing the woman and tensing as her fingers grasped at the muscles at his back. He tried to move away, but she clung to him like a weed.

“Can I not tempt you to stay the night?” she whispered in his ear, her lips brushing his neck.

“I need to get back to the castle,” Link said, trying to gently push her away without touching her any more than he had to.

“It would be worth your while,” she murmured. Mutely, Link shook his head.

“I doubt that very much,” he muttered in her ear. The woman leaned back, her face a mask of outrage. Link gifted her with a quick, cold smile and disentangled himself. He edged away and shook hands with Bo, feeling her eyes crawling over him.

“I asked about Ilia earlier,” he said. “I meant it when I said I wanted to visit her. Will you tell me where she is?”

Bo’s eyes slid sideways. He raised his hand and rubbed the back of his neck, ruefully.

“Ah, Link. She… she has asked that you do not visit.”

“Why?” Link asked, aghast.

“I do not know,” Bo said. “I believed it was because the child was yours and she was angry, but now I know this isn’t so, I will ask her the next time I see her. I will pass on your well wishes and your desire to see her. I’ll send word to you.”

“Thank you,” Link said, dismayed. Why didn’t Ilia want to see him? They had been friends since they were toddlers, after all. Surely she hadn’t been that hurt by his refusal? But then… the way he had cried out in horror, the way he had flung himself away… even though it was not her fault, though she was not the cause of his fear, it must have seemed that way. The thought crushed him.

But he forced himself to tuck the thought away. Fado was leading Epona to him, and Link saw, with some relief, a light blue glow emanating from one of her saddlebags. Navi was there.

Thanking Fado, and saying one final farewell to the villagers, Link swung into the saddle.

“I’ll walk to you to the bridge,” Colin offered, patting Epona’s shoulder. Link nodded, and they set off, Link smiling and waving as he left his home behind once more.

Colin was silent as they went, rounding the bend, passing Link’s old house, and heading towards the bridge.

“It was good to see you,” he said, as they stopped. “When will you be back?”

“I’m not sure,” Link said. “I never know what I’m doing one day to the next, but it’s usually waiting for Zelda to need me.”

“Maybe I could come to the castle,” Colin replied, idly stroking Epona’s mane. “Running trade between here and Kakariko has it’s perks, but it does get rather boring after a while.”

“I bet.”

“Maybe there’s something I could do for the princess,” Colin mused. “I’m not far off my eighteenth birthday. I know it’s a little later than most recruits, but I’ve been thinking about becoming a soldier.”

Link stared down at his friend.

“That’s far too dangerous,” he said. “The life of a soldier is hard, no, it’s brutal. You rarely get a good night’s sleep, the food is abysmal, and the goddesses forbid if a war starts! You’re too young to-“

He stopped. Colin looked up at him with cool blue eyes. His brow had broadened, his jaw stubbled. His shoulders were burly and his arms were strong. He was a boy no longer. Link sighed.

“I wouldn’t recommend it,” he said. “It’s no more glamourous than running trade. Most of your day is spent sitting about, bored out of your skull, guarding one noble or another, or patrolling the town. in times of peace like these, there’s not much to do other than chase down the odd thief.”

“I’d like that,” Colin said. “It would make me feel like I’m making a difference. Like you do.”

“You are,” Link said. “Without you, Kakariko wouldn’t get their trade, and therefore, neither would Ordon.”

“That’s only a small difference,” Colin groused. “You saved the whole world, Link.”

Link sighed and swung down out of Epona’s saddle. He put a hand on Colin’s shoulder.

“I had no choice,” he said. “The goddesses chose me to house the spirit of the Hero, and I had no say in the matter. I wouldn’t take back my deeds, but nor would I ever wish it on another.”

“It was hard?” Colin asked, his brow creasing. “You never talk about it.”

Link forced a smile.

“It was different,” he said. “And it was, and is, an honour. Believe me, if I hadn’t been chosen, I’m sure I would long for adventure. But the reality of it is always different to what you picture in your head.”

Colin looked at his feet. “I just wish I could do more,” he said, quietly. “I feel like I’m wasting away here.”

“I understand. You’re young, you’ve plenty of time to see the world and have many adventures.”

“Okay,” Colin said. “I’ll think some more about being a soldier. Thanks.”

Link pulled the younger man close in a tight embrace.

“Don’t lose sight of what’s important because of a dream,” he said. “You lose more than just sleep when you’re away from home.”

Colin looked up, brow furrowed. “What does-“

“Never mind,” Link said. “I have to go, I’ll be late otherwise.”

He swung back into the saddle and put his heels to Epona’s sides. With a whinny, she bounded forward, hooves clattering on the wooden planks of the bridge. As they neared the tree line, Link looked back. Colin was standing by the bridge, tall and muscled and older than a teenager should ever be.

Link bent lower over Epona’s neck and urged her forward. He knew the look in Colin’s eyes. The look he had had himself in his youth. Determination and stubbornness. He could only hope that his words would root themselves in the boy’s mind, and that he wouldn’t foolishly throw himself into danger, seeking something, anything, to wipe out the drudgery of life spent in an isolated village.

He knew in his heart they would not.


	9. 9 - Zelda

The nib of the quill scratched across the creamy parchment, the ink black and shining in the morning light from the windows. Zelda frowned in concentration, her eyes flicking between the scrolls before her, and the parchment on which she wrote.

The scrolls were infuriating in their mystery, but Zelda was determined to eke out their secrets. She absently took a sip from the tea Impa had brought her, and made a face. It was cold.

Zelda made another note, worry growing in her heart. With each sentence she managed to decipher, her dread grew. None of the words were promising, yet none of them were concrete. Such was the way of prophecies. But, with a tingle from the back of her hand, she felt that she was close.

Sitting up straight, she fanned her notes and shuffled the parchment about, organising them as she organised her thoughts. She moved one sheet of parchment to the beginning of the spread, and then moved it towards the middle. She switched the parchment around again, trying to make sense of the words. She read and reread what was there, swallowed, and dipped her quill, pulling a fresh sheet of parchment towards her.

The quill danced across the smooth parchment, the scratching sound familiar and comforting. Finally, Zelda sat back, running a hand over her face. Her eyes itched with the intensity of staring at the words for so long, and her mind was saturated with the labour of translating the ancient Hylian text. But it was done.

 _Dark times will befall Hyrule when a dark stranger comes. They will have power_ _beyond reckoning, and the wisest_ _minds will fall prey to dangers of their own making. The homes of the innocent will light in the fires of fury_ _and courage_ _will kneel before a broken heart. Beware the betrayal, the spirit is loyal_ _to a false god._

Zelda realised she had been holding her breath. She let it out slowly. She did not understand it at all well, but the references to power, wisdom and courage were clear as day. She and Link would have a part to play in whatever was to come, but as to who now held the triforce of power, Zelda couldn’t say. Ganondorf was _dead_. She had seen Link kill him with her own eyes. His power left him as the triforce abandoned him to his fate. She shivered, an icy finger of trepidation needling down her spine as she remembered the giant of a man, still standing as the life left him. Was he truly dead?

She scanned the ancient texts again, longing for clarity, and afraid of what the words truly meant. But the letters jumbled together on the pages. She was too tired to translate any more.

Outside, the sun had risen to its highest point, and Zelda noticed with some surprise that she was hungry. She blew on the ink once more and blotted the parchment, rolling the prophecy up into a tight tube that she tied with a white ribbon. She rose, and stretched languorously, enjoying the feel of her muscles loosening. She would ask Impa for a shoulder-rub later to ease out the last of the tension.

She jumped as someone rapped imperiously at her suite door. Impa rose from her seat by the fire to answer.

It was the royal herald, dressed in his plumed and plump plum finery. He blew the small trumpet that he carried with him everywhere, the sound loud and sudden in the stillness of her suite. Zelda winced.

“His Grace the King of Hyrule commands that his daughter, her Royal Highness, the Princess Zelda, attends to him at once in his royal chambers,” the herald pompously proclaimed. “Zelda should make all haste to his chambers at once!” Impa glared at the herald’s impropriety, and he jutted his chin defiantly at her.

Zelda’s heart leapt. Her father wanted to see her, and it was the perfect time! She snatched up the scroll and held it tightly to her chest, slipping on her shoes as Impa closed the door in the herald’s face.

“Zelda, you should wash the ink from your fingers,” Impa said, softly.

“Father wants to see me,” she replied, shaking out her hair. She glanced in the mirror as she strode to the door. She was more than presentable, and her eyes were positively glowing with eagerness. “I need to tell him about the rest of the prophecy.”

Impa bowed her head, opening the door for the princess as she hurried out. Zelda almost skipped down the spiral steps of her tower, Impa close behind. At the base of the stairs, she sped down the narrow corridor that connected the two royal towers.

Slightly out of breath, Zelda took the stairs two at a time, barely registering the guards outside her father’s door. She paused, and set her shoulders, collecting herself. She raised a hand and knocked, softly.

“Enter,” came her father’s voice.

Zelda slipped inside, leaving Impa on the other side of the door with the guards.

King Rhoam’s chambers were much larger and grander than her own, which were indeed large and grand themselves. His reception room was almost twice the size of hers, making the low sofas and chairs seem almost lonely in the vast space. The carpet and soft furnishings were a dark blue trimmed in gold, and her feet sank into the dense fibres as she moved across to where her father sat.

Rhoam was seated by the fire in a large, wing-backed chair, straight and proud. He offered his daughter a smile. It was a mere quirk of his lips, but that was the most he seemed to smile nowadays. He was dressed in his fine robes and the crown of Hylia rested on his greying head, but a thick, quilted dressing gown covered most of his attire.

The room grew warmer as Zelda approached and bowed deeply. The fire was almost roaring in the hearth, but Rhoam’s hand was cold to the touch as Zelda kissed the back of it.

“My daughter,” the king said. “Be seated.”

Zelda lowered herself into a nearby armchair, staring at her father. She bit her lip. His eyes were bagged with tiredness, and he seemed smaller than he had a few months before. But the dark brown eyes he turned on her were afire with intelligence and power.

“Father,” Zelda said. “You summoned me, and not a moment too soon. I have just now finished deciphering the prophecy about the strange woman Link brought to the castle.”

“That is not why I asked you here,” Rhoam said, gravely. Zelda blinked.

“But Father, this is important. This prophecy tells of great trouble to befall Hyrule if we don’t do something about it. The triforce is referenced, mentioning power, wisdom and courage. I believe that if we don’t-”

Rhoam silenced her with a look.

“You ever were a bookworm, my daughter,” he said, and to Zelda, it seemed to be only half a compliment. “No, set aside this frivolous matter for now. I must speak with you about the future of Hyrule.”

Zelda held her tongue. The future of Hyrule sat in the scroll tightly bound between her fingers. Nothing could be more important. But, as her father watched her over steepled fingers, Zelda kept her silence.

“It is time you chose a suitor,” the king said, startling a gasp from her.

“Father!” she said. “I am not ready to be wed!” Dread filled her heart. A fearful seed planted long ago, when she first began to understand what it was to be royalty, suddenly burst into bloom. “I don’t want to,” she said, as the heat of the room seemed to drain out of her through her feet, leaving her cold and shivering.

“As the princess of Hyrule, you have a duty to the realm, and to the people,” Rhoam rumbled. “You are twenty-five, Zelda, and you should have been married years ago. I have allowed you time in the hopes that you would take the initiative and find yourself a suitable husband, but you have not.”

“Father,” Zelda implored. “I have been working! I have sat on the council in your stead, I have listened to the commons in your place. I have ruled Hyrule whilst you have been convalescing. I have not had the _time_ to find a suitor.”

“You have indeed been working,” Rhoam agreed. “You have been working hard to rebuild the damage caused by your failure nine years ago.”

Zelda covered her mouth with her fingers.

“Papi,” she said, faintly, her eyes prickling. Rhoam’s eyes softened at the name his daughter bestowed upon him as a small child. “I was sixteen. You were away. I did what I thought was right.” The king’s gaze hardened again.

“What you thought was right allowed the Twilight to enter our realm and take over,” Rhoam remarked. “It caused us no end of suffering.”

He raised a hand as Zelda opened her mouth.

“I will hear no more of it. You must find a suitor. I do not know how long I have left, my child, and I wish to see you with a suitable husband before I pass into the next world.”

“You are not going to die,” Zelda said past the lump in her throat. “You are strong, Papi.”

The smile Rhoam gave her this time was gentler. “The strongest tree might fall, if the storm is fierce enough and the wind blows too long,” he said, solemnly. He leaned in his chair and produced a small bundle of sealed scrolls.

“I have received many of these letters,” he said, as Zelda took them. “Each written to you from a hopeful husband of a noble house, hoping to win your hand. I will leave it to you to decide who best suits you, but I will provide guidance on who will best serve the realm.” Zelda did not miss the tremor in his hand as he sat back. The pressure behind her eyes began to build, and she squeezed her thumb in her hand to distract her from the tears that threatened to spill forth.

She turned the scrolls over one by one. Each was made of a soft, creamy parchment, some so soft they almost seemed to be made of cloth. Each was stamped with an unbroken wax seal of a different colour. A rainbow of confinement and misery.

“What if none of them are suitable?” she asked, quietly.

“I will allow you to look outside this assortment,” Rhoam said. “But they will be subject to my approval. Choose wisely.”

He turned his head and looked into the fire, a regal and obvious dismissal. Zelda hesitated.

“I’m not ready yet, Papi,” she said. “I need more time.”

“You have a year,” Rhoam said. “A year to choose a suitor, to wed, and hopefully to fall pregnant with a son. Do not think to delay. The thought of Hyrule with no heir brings me a stress I have not the strength to bear. You have my leave, daughter.”

Lip trembling, Zelda gathered her skirts, rose and curtsied, clutching the scrolls to her chest. She rushed across the room and shouldered open the door, surprising the guards, and dashed back to her own suite, Impa hot on her heels. She threw the door open and tossed the scrolls to one side, flying to her bedroom.

There, she flung herself on her enormous bed, beating a pillow ferociously as she finally let loose the tears she had held, sobbing, indulging in the rage she so rarely allowed herself to feel.

This was the day she had dreaded. It was finally here. “How could he?” she wailed, her punches and slaps growing weaker as she tired. “I cannot marry a man I do not know, that I do not love!”

The nobility of Hyrule were a soft, spoiled, pompous lot. None of them had ever lifted a finger to do more than write letters or shovel sweetmeats into their toothless mouths. They sat and schemed and grew fat on the labour of others beneath them. None of them would know the hardness of real work, the stress of running a whole country whilst the council and the commons muttered behind their hands about her, or plotted how to make her agree to yet another tax.

None of them knew the trials of life. None of them had worked on a farm, or slept under the stars, or raised a sword in defence of the land they called home. None had ridden into battle, had raised a bow to their enemy, had feared for their life.

Zelda squeezed her eyes shut, tears leaking from under the lids. No. none of them knew. The only man who _did_ know was not of noble birth, and thus, he was beyond her reach.

Zelda sniffed, her eyes sore. She curled up on her bed, tugging the pillow to her chest. She nuzzled against it as another tear slid free of her eye. She imagined that the pillow was not made of silk, but of rough cotton over a softer shirt, hiding light chainmail beneath. She imagined it smelled of summer, of wheat fields and horse and freshly cut grass. She imagined the pillow rose and fell with deep, steady breaths.

“Impa,” she said, her voice strained. In an instant, her aide was beside her. Zelda motioned, and Impa climbed onto the bed behind her, wrapping her arms around the princess in a strong, warm embrace.

It was a poor substitute for what she wanted, but she craved the touch of another, a touch that she so rarely had. Gradually her tears began to dry, and her eyes fluttered shut, the point of Impa’s chin pressing into her shoulder as she willed her imaginings to become dreams, where there was no royal family, no betrothals, and no rules to keep her from easing the longing in her heart. But something fluttered in her chest, a nervous quivering that had nothing to do with her misery and everything to do with her research.

“Impa,” she said softly. “I wish to be alone. Please go and check on Link and our guest.”

Wordlessly, Impa rose from the bed, and left without a sound. Zelda curled on top of the covers, suddenly missing the warmth of another person. But the prophecy weighed on her mind. She had to know he was safe.


	10. 10 - Navi

Navi sat and sulked in Epona’s saddlebag, jostled roughly by the horse’s thundering hoofbeats on the hard ground. It was uncomfortable, but she refused to cushion the buffeting with her magic. Let her be bruised, that would show Link for ignoring her all day!

Link hadn’t said a word since leaving the village behind. He hadn’t called for her, or even checked to see if she was with him! She could still be in Ordon for all he knew, and he so heartlessly left anyway. Navi hugged herself and pouted. Well so be it. If he was going to be selfish then she wouldn’t speak to him until he apologised.

In time, Epona slowed, and the bouncing of the saddlebag calmed to a gentle sway. Navi quickly inspected herself. She was unscathed, which annoyed her. How was Link supposed to feel bad when she was obviously unharmed by the day’s events? She considered banging her shoulder against the corner of his wallet to bruise herself.

Sunlight suddenly streamed into the saddlebag as the flap was opened. Navi winced, shading her eyes with her hand until something blocked out the sunlight. Link was leaning over the bag, staring at her with a furrowed brow.

“Is this where you’ve been all day?” he asked. “You missed a good meal.”

Navi folded her arms. “You seemed perfectly happy to not notice I was missing before,” she said.

“I did notice,” Link said. “I was hoping you would be there to spend time with those I care about.”

“Well, you should have come looking for me,” Navi stuck her nose in the air. “It’s not very polite to just leave me while you go gallivanting off with other people!”

Link stepped back from the saddlebag, and Navi was dismayed to see hurt sweep over his face. But then his brows lowered into a deep, unsettling frown.

“Forgive me for wanting to speak with those I had not seen for years,” he said, his voice low. “I’ll make sure I ignore them from now on.”

“That isn’t what I meant,” Navi said, standing and fluttering her wings. She came out of the saddlebag as Link remounted Epona. “But you just left me standing there! It was _my_ idea to go to Ordon, you could at least be a little happy about that!”

Link shook his head. “Arguing about this is pointless. You could have come with me, I could have called you, it doesn’t matter. And I _am_ happy you suggested it, I’ve missed my friends.”

“It does matter,” Navi said, sullenly. “If you don’t want me around, then…”

Link turned to look at her, a deep sadness washing away the anger from before.

“Of course I want you with me, Navi,” he said, softly. “But I can’t devote all my time to checking if you are by my side. You’re clever enough to make your own choices.”

Navi said nothing to that, but her indignation was somewhat soothed. It wasn’t an apology. But he did want her with him. That was good enough.

They passed through the castle gates, Link dismounting as they neared the stables. He gave Epona an apple as a stable boy took her saddle and bridle off, bringing a sponge and brush to clean the sweat from her flanks.

The sun was beginning to descend as they left the stables, Link jogging up the castle steps. Navi’s stomach growled as she flew behind him, and she was pleased to see Link move in the direction of the kitchens. Perhaps they would sit together in the Great Hall, or even at the scrubbed table in the kitchen itself, tucked away from prying eyes. Maybe Link would take some food back to their room, where they could talk, and maybe, just maybe, he could make it up to her for ignoring her all day.

Link rounded a corner and pulled up short with a sharp intake of breath.

Impa stood before them, hands on her hips, and a decidedly furious look in her red eyes. Link took a step back as Navi squeaked and darted under his hat.

In the darkness, Navi was protected from the Sheika’s piercing glare, but she shivered all the same. It felt as though Impa could still see her, and she was naked under the intensity of the feeling.

“Where are you going?” Impa demanded of the Hero.

Link made a series of stumbling noises.

“I was going to get something to eat,” he said after a moment.

“I see,” Impa said, her voice frightening in its calmness. Navi shivered. “You must be hungry after watching our guest all day.”

Link nodded, Navi clinging to his hair. “Yes.”

Navi heard footsteps approaching, and felt Link go very still.

“Then do explain to me, Ser Link, how you have discovered the power of invisibility?” Impa’s voice was soft, almost sweet. Link took another step back.

“I don’t… what do you mean?”

“I mean…” Impa’s voice was closer than ever. Navi crept to the brim of Link’s hat and peeked out. Glaring red eyes rose huge before her as Impa towered over them, her face pushed into Link’s. Navi squealed in fright and hid again. Link began to tremble.

“I mean to ask you why I did not see you when I attended our guest’s chambers this afternoon,” Impa whispered.

“I only stepped out for a moment,” Link said, quickly. “Just to-“

“Liar,” Impa said. “I have been there for quite some time, guarding the stranger as you should have been. _You_ were not in the castle.”

There was a sudden movement, and Link yelped in pain as he stumbled forward. Navi flew out from under his hat and turned to see Impa’s hand clamped over his bicep, dragging him away.

“The princess would very much like to speak with you,” Impa said, pulling the Hero along as though he was no heavier than a sack of apples. Link resisted for a moment, then Navi saw his shoulders slump, and his head bow as he meekly fell into step beside Princess Zelda’s closest ally.

As they reached the stairs, he looked back to her, and his face was full of confusion, guilt, and betrayal.

Navi bit her lip as he and Impa vanished from sight. She hovered on the spot for a long minute, ignoring the servants who slid in and out of the kitchen, eyes fixed on the staircase, hoping against hope that Link would appear, a smile on his face, laughing about the misunderstanding.

But he did not appear. A sinking feeling of dread was settling in the spot just below Navi’s heart. He was in trouble, and it was all her fault.

She felt tears prick the corners of her eyes, and she flew up the gently curving staircase, passing soldiers and servants as she went, heading for the room she shared with Link.

Inside, she flew to his pillow and curled up, sniffling.

She had been the one to convince him to travel to Ordon instead of doing what he was ordered to do. She had been the one to tell him there was no point in guarding the stranger. She had been the one to ignore him the whole day over some silly slight!

The guilt was unbearable. Navi writhed on the pillow as it coiled inside her like a serpent, black and cold and slick. Navi held her head in her hands and whimpered, her mind racing, seeking a way to escape the culpability of her actions.

She took a deep breath. Then another. And another. She willed her pounding heart to slow, the tears to dry on her cheeks. She was a _fairy_ , and fairies didn’t make mistakes like this. She sat up on the pillow and stared out of the large windows, thinking.

She _did_ give Link the idea to go to Ordon Village, that could not be denied. But that was because she cared about him, and he clearly needed to get away from the castle. He agreed to go. Ultimately, it was his decision. And besides, if he hadn’t pulled the stranger from the water then he never would have been ordered to guard her in the first place. Without this, they could still be by the lake now, enjoying another day of peace in Hyrule.

Navi nodded to herself. Yes, it was really Link’s fault for not listening to her in the first place, and leaving the stranger to drown. No good would come of the stranger, hadn’t she told him this? And now he was in trouble.

She sat up, suddenly. Link might tell them it was her idea. And then _she_ would catch the blame! Such a thing would not do. After all, it wasn’t her fault. It was his. She would tell Zelda just that if Link decided to be stupid and try to pass off the responsibility.

Navi sighed. She hoped he wasn’t in serious trouble. The princess had long nursed a soft spot for their hero, perhaps she would go easy on him. Though it was less likely that the stalwart and stoic Impa would be quite so forgiving…

Navi dozed on Link’s pillow as the sun crawled towards the horizon, staining the purpling sky with washes of red and orange. The sun was fully set and the night sky curtained with glimmering stars before the bedroom door opened, and Link slipped inside.

Navi was awake in an instant. She launched herself off the pillow and flew to him, pulling up in front of his face. His eyes were bagged, and he seemed to carry a great weight on his shoulders.

“Did you tell them it was my idea?” Navi squeaked.

Link looked to her, his eyes distant and unfocused.

“No,” he said, after a while.

Relief flooded through the fairy.

“Good!” she said. “Who was there? What did they say? Are you-“

Link raised a hand, and for once, Navi shut up.

“I’m tired,” he said. “I’m going to sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Navi stuck out her bottom lip as Link kicked off his boots, pulled off his hat, and rolled under the covers, still dressed in his tunic and trousers. He pulled the covers up over his shoulder and curled in a ball, his back to the window, the little house, and Navi.

“Goodnight,” she said.

There was no reply. 


	11. 11 - Link

Link strode the long corridor that led to the stranger’s room, eyes fixed ahead. Navi clung to his earring, occasionally brushing his cheek with her wings. It itched a little, but he was used to it now. It was her favourite spot to sit, after all. Sunlight streamed through the high, narrow windows, stripes of warm light contrasting with the cool stone walls as his feet hushed over the carpet.

He rounded a bend and saw two guards lounging against the wall, to either side of the unremarkable door. They stood to attention as he approached.

“Ser Link,” they greeted him with a nod.

“I’m here on Princess Zelda’s orders,” Link said. “I’m to watch over the stranger.”

The guard on the left shrugged. “On you go,” he said.

Link reached for the handle and paused, half afraid the doctor would come out again. He glanced to the guards, both looking bored.

“There’s no need for you to be here now,” he said. “Go and get yourselves something to eat.”

The guard on the right shook his head. “We’ve got our orders, same as you, ser.”

“You’ve got new ones now,” Link said. “If anyone questions it, send them to me.”

The guards exchanged glances and grinned at each other.

“Thank you rightly, ser,” the left one said. “Could even catch up on my sleep a bit.”

“You do that,” Link said, and turned the handle as the guards departed.

“Was that a good idea?” Navi asked.

“Their orders came from the captain,” Link said. “And I outrank him.” He grimaced. He needed the soldiers on his side. It would make what was to come in two nights time easier.

Inside was a fair-sized room, with a bathroom to the side. A dresser and wardrobe stood to the left, beside a desk with a mirror hung over it. The curtains by the window and balcony door were open, allowing sunlight to stream into the room. The walls were papered in patterned teal, the carpet a nondescript green.

The bedroom was dominated by a large bed. It wasn’t as large as his own, but it could sleep two and a half people with ease. Lying on her side, under the covers, was the stranger. Thoria.

Her raven hair was spread over the pillow, her eyes closed, her lips parted just a little. One hand rested on the pillow, her fingers curled inwards. The covers rose and fell with her slow, steady breathing.

Link crossed the room quietly and eased himself into a chair by the bed. He leaned on the arm and propped his chin in his hand, dislodging Navi from his shoulder, who grumbled in annoyance and flittered to the other side. She sat, arms folded, nose in the air. Link paid her no mind.

He watched Thoria a moment, a slight frown creasing his brow. Who was she? Where was she from? And where did she truly fit into the line of Zelda's prophecy? Aside from her ears, she seemed completely normal.

“It’s stupid that you have to watch her,” Navi groused. “Stupid! We could be outside in the sun, or back at the lake, or even have spent longer in Ordon, but no, you just had to save her. It’s your fault, you know.”

“What the King commands, I do,” Link said, quietly, watching the woman’s eyes flickering as she dreamed. “I’ve already neglected my duties once. I won’t do that again.”

Navi was surprisingly quiet a moment, but Link did not expand on his statement.

“He didn’t command you to save her,” Navi said, after the silence had stretched far beyond uncomfortable. “That was your fault.”

“My choice,” Link argued, happy to move away from his dereliction of duty. “What sort of knight would I be if I let someone drown?”

“A sensible one,” Navi sniffed. Then she sighed, and put out a hand to stroke his cheek. “You could have died,” she said. “I wouldn’t have been able to bear it.”

“I didn’t, though,” Link said. “Stop worrying about me, Navi. I’m fine.”

“You shouldn’t keep putting yourself in danger,” Navi said, softly. “There’s no need. She’s dangerous, I can tell.”

Under the covers, Thoria stirred. Link watched her for any signs of waking.

“I disagree,” he said, softly. “But we’ll wait and see.”

Navi went silent. Link relaxed back in the chair, half-watching Thoria, half-watching the shadows slowly creep across the floor. His eyelids drooped. He had not slept at all the night before, his mind too full of visions of Zelda’s disappointed eyes, Impa’s furious glares, and Rhoam’s cold, expressionless face. The chair, though straight backed and hard, was oddly comfortable.

His vision wavered, the shadows turning on the floor as the sun climbed higher in the sky. A bird soared past the window, casting its own silhouette. Link watched it flash across the carpet, up the wall, and to the mirror, where a dark figure with glowing, red eyes stared out.

Link jerked awake, his hand flying to his sword, as Navi suddenly, and loudly, spoke.

“How long do we have to watch her?” she complained. Thoria stirred on the bed, a line appearing between her brows.

“Shh,” Link said. “Don’t wake her.” He stared at the mirror again, his heart racing. His fingers itched to draw his sword, but there was nothing there but his own reflection, wide-eyed and pale. He swallowed, and took a long, steadying breath. There was no one else there. He was safe.

“Why shouldn’t we?” Navi said, and Link could almost hear her pout. “The sooner she wakes, the sooner we can find out what she is, and be done with it all.”

Link ignored her. The woman stirred again, stretching in her sleep. She rolled on to her back, the covers twisting as she went. Her foot caught the blankets, tugging them down, and Link’s breath caught in his throat.

She had been dressed in a bed robe, and it had come undone. Beneath, he could see a vast expanse of white breast, only just covered by the maroon cotton. If she moved any more, she would expose herself completely. His mouth went dry. He stared. And stared.

Navi noticed.

“Look at that whore,” she said, in disgust. “I’ll bet she did that deliberately.”

Link snapped out of his trance. “Don’t call her names,” he said. “There’s no need.” He rose, the chair creaking as he stood.

“What are you doing?” Navi said. She leapt off his shoulder and flittered in front of his face. “Don’t you even think it!”

“Enough,” Link said, reaching down to the bed. He hesitated for a second, and then eased the tangled blankets out from under the stranger’s arm, pulling them up and over, covering her.

“There,” he said, softly. “You’re…”

Thoria opened her eyes.


	12. 12 - Link

Link yelped and jerked back as the stranger bolted upright. She bared her teeth and hissed like a cat, scrabbling to the middle of the bed, drawing her knees underneath her and raising her hands, curled into claws. Navi shrieked and flew to the door.

“Guards!” she hollered. “Guards, guards!”

“Shut up, Navi!” Link roared.

The woman, Thoria, was wild about the eyes. She stayed very still, watching him with savage ferocity.

“What are you doing?” she demanded, in her strange accent.

“I’m sorry,” Link said, raising his hands. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

Thoria squinted at him. “You touched me.”

Link felt his cheeks redden. “I’m sorry,” he said again. “Your blanket fell off. Your… uh, robe opened. I covered you. I’m sorry.”

Thoria watched him warily a moment longer. After a beat, she nodded.

“Alright,” she said, and relaxed a little. She shuffled back on the bed, drawing her knees up to her chin and pulling the blanket around herself. She looked about.

“What am I doing here?” she asked.

Link paused.

“I… brought you here,” he said slowly. “After you fell from the sky. Do you remember?”

Thoria blinked. “Yes, I… I think so.”

“You fainted,” Link continued. “I thought it best to bring you here to the castle, where… where the royal doctor could care for you.”

Thoria raised an eyebrow at that. Not both, just one. It arched as the other lowered, the curve graceful and disbelieving.

“The castle,” she repeated. “The royal doctor.” The smallest of smiles appeared on her lips. “Are you sure you’re not a prince?”

It was Link’s turn to smile. “I’m sure.”

“Who is your ruler?”

“King Rhoam,” Link said.

A flicker crossed Thoria’s eyes. It was so quick, Link felt he may have imagined it. He must have, for her face still showed the disbelieving, yet courteous bafflement.

“And… where am I? Where are we? What land is this?”

“Hyrule,” Link said. This time, there was no mistaking it. Something certainly crossed behind her eyes this time. “Are you well?” he asked.

“I…” Thoria paused and looked away. “I’m not sure. I feel…” she shook her head. “I don’t know. I feel as though I know- or no, I don’t…” she gripped the bedsheets and huffed. “I can’t explain it,” she growled. “It’s infuriating.”

She looked back to Link.

“I don’t believe I asked clearly earlier,” she said, and there was a cold, calculating element to her gaze. “What am I doing here, in a comfortable bed, in a castle, in a land I am not from? Why here?”

“Because you’re weird!” Navi shrieked, flitting to Link’s shoulder. “You fell out the sky and you claim you’re not from here. You must be a servant of Ganon!”

“Navi!” Link said, horrified. Thoria’s eyes went wide, and she leaned back.

“A serv-“ she blinked. “What on earth is a Ganon?”

“Never mind,” Link said, glaring at the fairy, who glared right back. “It’s not important.” He sighed and stared down at his hands. What to say?

“You… Navi’s right, in a way,” he began. He sensed, rather than saw the smug expression on the fairy’s face. “Even if she puts it as delicately as a rutting hog,” he continued. Navi spluttered indignantly, and Thoria snorted. Link looked up, surprised, and found her hiding a smile behind her hand. She waited, and waved for him to continue.

“You fell out of a tear in the sky, and I thought it was something the princess would want to know about,” Link said. “So, I brought you here.”

“The princess?” Thoria asked. “Not the king?”

“Well, him too,” Link agreed. “But I am Princess Zelda’s chosen knight, and it is she whom I serve, even if King Rhoam’s word is final.”

Thoria was quiet. Her brows lowered, and she seemed to draw into herself.

Link waited for her to speak, but the silence grew. He waited a long minute before Navi grumbled in his ear.

“This is stupid,” she said. “She is clearly dangerous. We need information from her!”

“We do,” Link murmured back. “Take it easy, Navi. Why don’t you go and tell Zelda she’s awake?”

“I’m not leaving you alone with that wh- that person,” Navi said. Link frowned.

“Excuse me,” he said to Thoria. She nodded absently, still frowning, staring at her knees. Link rose and slipped out of the room, where he scooped Navi from his shoulder and held her in front of his face in a cupped hand.

“What’s gotten into you?” he asked. “Why are you so afraid of her?”

“I’m not!” the fairy protested, crossing her arms. “But she’s obviously a servant of Ganon, or some other dark magic!”

“How?” Link asked, incredulous. “She’s done nothing but fall from the sky, and we don’t even know if it was her doing! She could have come here by accident, caught in someone else’s magic!”

“Or,” Navi argued, “A demon banished from her realm to ours! Ganon could have come again, and whilst he grows his power, has sent her in his place!”

“It’s always Ganon with you lot, isn’t it?” Link groused. “Can’t you try to see the good in people for once?”

“Not when it puts you at risk!” Navi squeaked. She grabbed his thumb. “You’re too special to be put in danger.” Her cheeks coloured, and she looked away.

Link fought not to twist his mouth. “If only the rest of Hyrule thought that way,” he said, bitterly. He softened his voice. “I appreciate your concern, Navi, I do. I am blessed that you have returned, and I wouldn’t be without your help. But please, give her a chance, okay? She might be an innocent bystander caught up in things beyond her control.”

“Or she might be evil,” Navi said, petulantly.

“And if she is, I will do what I have to,” Link resolved. “But until she gives me cause, I will do as Rhoam and Zelda have asked, and watch over her.”

“Fine.” Navi pouted. She looked away. “Just don’t come crying to me when it all goes wrong.”

“Then help me,” Link said. Navi turned quickly, her eyes brightening.

“Anything,” she said.

“Go and tell Zelda that Thoria is awake,” Link said. “She’ll want to know, and I can’t leave her.”

Navi glared.

“Please?” Link asked.

Navi huffed.

“Only because it’s you,” she said, and she fluttered her wings, rising from his palm to fly away along the corridor. She had barely turned the corner before Link knocked at Thoria’s door, and slipped back inside.

Thoria was out of bed, and standing by the large glass doors that opened onto a small balcony. She was staring out of the window, her arms folded. The robe she had been given was ill fitting; it was too short to be proper, ending above the knee, and the sleeves ended halfway down her forearms. Her hair was tangled, and blacker than the night sky.

Link cleared his throat gently to let her know he was there. She didn’t respond. Link approached, treading lightly on the carpet, and stopped a foot behind her. She was almost as tall as he was, her eyes level with his chin. Her back was ramrod straight, like a soldier.

The window overlooked part of the courtyard, the part used for training the new guards, and the stable. Beyond that was the high castle wall, and the rolling plains and hills of Hyrule Field. The sun was a bare four hours in the sky, warming the ground as it climbed.

“Why am I here?” Thoria said, quietly. Link frowned.

“Because…”

“I know why I’m _here_ ,” Thoria said, stressing the last word. “But I don’t know _why_. Or how, for that matter.”

“You don’t remember anything?” Link asked.

“I…” Thoria paused. “Not much. I know my name… but I can’t really remember anything else.”

“Nothing?”

“No, not _nothing_ ,” Thoria said. “I… feel that I have knowledge of where I’m from, but I can’t… I can’t remember the name of it.” She rubbed the sides of her head. “I remember streets, buildings, faces of important people, what the city looked like… but nothing… nothing about me.”

She shook her head and glared at the floor. “I don’t even know how _old_ I am.”

“What do you remember?” Link pressed. Thoria shot him an exasperated look.

“Fuck all,” she said, sharply. Link raised his eyebrows. “Nothing that you want to know.” She squared her shoulders. “And, if I do remember, I don’t know if I want to tell you. I have no idea who I am, or where I am, or how I got here. I don’t want to give a complete stranger everything when that could be dangerous to me.”

“I understand,” Link said, gently. “But it may be dangerous not to.”

Thoria glared at him for a long moment, and looked away, scowling out of the window as if something outside had offered her great insult. Finally, she spoke. “If I remember anything, I’ll tell you,” she said.

“Thank you,” Link said. He waited a while. Thoria said nothing, but continued to stare out of the window. Eventually, she stirred.

“I get the feeling that you’re not just here to make sure I’m alive,” she said.

Link gave a wry smile. “You’re right. Considering the circumstances of your arrival, the princess has charged me with watching over you.”

“I see,” Thoria sighed. “Very well.”

Her stomach gave a sudden, loud rumble. Link cursed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think. It must have been days since you last ate.”

Thoria nodded absently. “It certainly feels like it.”

“I’ll wait outside,” Link said. “There should be clothes and things in the drawers. We’ll go to the kitchens.”

He stepped out of the room and leaned against the wall, waiting. He folded his arms.

How long would he have to watch this stranger? She certainly didn’t seem like the type to lay waste to the entire country, but then, stranger things had happened.

He remembered the events of a decade ago. Living in Ordon village, living his simple life. Herding the goats, playing with the children. Learning swordplay from Rusl, walking with Ilia. He smiled. Those were simpler times. Boring times, admittedly, but safe.

Then the twilight came, and his life had changed forever. In his adventures, the memories of his past lives had slowly come back. Chosen by the Goddesses once again to defend Hyrule from another onslaught of evil. And now, possibly, probably, he would have to do it again. He sighed.

Not for the first time in his life, he wished someone else had been chosen.

The door opened as Thoria stepped out. She was dressed in a simple blouse of light green, a cream skirt, and brown boots. The blouse complemented her eyes. She offered him a quick, guarded smile.

“So, tell me about Hyrule,” she said, falling into step beside him as they began to walk. Her stride was long, her back straight.

Link smiled. “What do you want to know?”

“Everything,” Thoria responded. “I know you have a royal family, how long have they ruled for?”

“As long as anyone can remember,” Link said. “The land is named for their family.”

“Are they an absolute monarchy?”

“A- what?” Link frowned. “Absolute?”

“Have total control,” Thoria said. “I… think that we have a monarchy, at home… but we also have a system of government that rules alongside them. They have the final say in things, of course, but the government pass most of the laws.”

“We have a council that advises the king and helps him write laws,” Link said. “He doesn’t come up with them all himself.”

“Just some of them?” Thoria asked.

Link said nothing.

They walked in silence for a while. Thoria stared about her, wide eyed, drinking in the sights around her.

“Who’s that?” she asked, stopping at a statue that was slightly taller than they were. A winged woman in a long gown.

“Hylia,” Link said. “The goddess.”

“Oh,” Thoria said. “I thought the name of the land came from the royal family? Hylia sounds an awful lot like Hyrule.”

“It does,” Link said. “The royal family are said to be descended from the goddess.”

“And you believe that?” Thoria said, a laugh escaping her.

Link frowned at her. “Why wouldn’t I? Hylia is as real as you or I, and so are Din, Nayru and Farore. Hylia took on a mortal form eons ago, and the royal family are descended from her.”

Thoria gave him a blank look. “Din…?”

“The three goddesses,” Link said. “They created Hyrule.”

“Okay,” she said, slowly. Then, she nodded. “I suppose it wouldn’t be unusual to have real deities as well as fairies.”

“You’ve never seen a fairy?” Link asked.

Thoria shook her head. “They don’t exist where I’m from. Only in stories.”

It was Link’s turn to shake his head. “Strange,” he said.

“You’re telling me.”

“No,” Link said, as they began to descend the stairs. “What I find strange is that you can remember things like that from your home, but not the name of it, or your last name, or things personal to you.” He stopped and looked at her. “Tell me truly. What are you hiding?”

Thoria looked back at him, her expression guarded.

“Nothing,” she said. “There are things I remember, and I remember more as each moment passes. But no specifics. When I think of my own life there’s… nothing. I know my name, and that’s it. I don’t even know if I have a family, or friends, or a husband. Or even a wife, though I doubt that, somehow.”

“Women can’t marry women,” Link said, laughing.

“They can where I’m from,” Thoria replied, coolly, and resumed descending the stairs.

“Then how do they have children?” Link challenged.

“Adoption,” Thoria remarked. “Saving a child in need is much better than spawning your own while they continue to suffer, don’t you think?”

“What about their heritage? Lineage? Their blood would stop with them,” Link said.

“So?”

“So, their bloodline would _end_ ,” Link stressed the last word.

“Like that matters in the grand scheme of things,” Thoria shrugged, moving on.

Link shook his head and followed her, glaring at the back of her head. He took a calming breath. He had to spend an unknown amount of time with her, and it wasn’t her fault that she didn’t know how things were done in Hyrule. He had to try.

“So how do you explain losing all your personal memories?” he asked, as he caught her up. Thoria shrugged, eyes on the floor.

“My guess would be selective retrograde amnesia,”

“Selective amni-what-now?” Link said.

“Selective memory loss,” Thoria said. “Often caused by head injury, or trauma. I think I whacked my head pretty good when I… fell into the lake, or even before. It’s the only thing I can think of to explain why I only remember some things,” she crossed her arms and hugged herself as they walked along another corridor.

“That,” Link said, slowly. “Makes very little sense.”

“I know, right?” Thoria said. “Who knows, I might be a princess myself and not even know it.” She chuckled. “You should curtsey, just to be on the safe side.”

Link looked at her, startled, and saw her grinning. He smiled back, despite himself. He flared the ends of his tunic and bent his knees.

“Your Highness,” he said, and Thoria laughed.

“That was terrible,” she said. “I’ll have to teach you.”

“I’ve never had to do it before,” Link said. “Come on.”

They descended the stairs, Link mulling over what Thoria had said.

“How do you know the things you do?” he said.

“Hm?” Thoria tore her gaze away from a picture on the wall. “What do you mean?”

“You sound like you know a lot,” Link said. “Either that, or you’re a phenomenal liar.”

Thoria chuckled. “I’m guessing you didn’t mean that to be offensive, so I’ll choose not to be annoyed by the implication that you originally thought I was an idiot.”

“I never said that,” Link said. “You seem very clever. I just wanted to know where you learned what you have.”

Thoria gave him a look. “I remember reading,” she said. “Lots. Books can tell you everything you want to know, if you know where to look.”

Link nodded. “The princess reads all the time. And she is the wisest woman in the land.”

“Is she.” Thoria said. Her tone was not one of awe, but of deliberate disinterest. Link scowled at her as she walked away. He decided to hold his tongue.

They made their way to the kitchens, Thoria occasionally stopping to ask about a portrait, or stare at the guards who patrolled the corridors. Link, in turn, pointed out the various rooms that they passed; the council room, the stairs that led to the observatory tower, the weapons room, and more, making an effort, despite his irritation.

Finally arriving, Link opened the door for Thoria, who whistled.

“Wow.”

Link grinned, despite himself. The kitchens were enormous. The ceiling was high and curved, the walls lined with innumerable shelves containing pots, pans, and plates, racks of knives and sacks of food. The floor was dominated by a gigantic worksurface in the centre of the room, covered with chopping boards, food trimmings, and yet more knives. A great fireplace stood to the back, large enough to roast an entire wild hog, and surrounded by ovens and heat rings.

A few cooks pottered about, and servants were clearing the last of the breakfast from the great hall, carting in armloads of plates and cutlery to dump in one of many sinks.

One of the cooks, a matronly, red-haired woman, looked over to the pair.

“You again,” she said, marching towards them. She tweaked Link’s ear. “I should have known you’d be down here for seconds! You never eat enough at mealtimes, that’s your trouble.”

“You’re right,” Link said, grinning. “But I really come here to see you, Mallory.”

“Oh shush,” Mallory said. “I know it’s my apply pie you’re really here for.”

“You have some?” Link said.

“I’m sure I can rustle some up,” Mallory winked. She turned to Thoria. “And who is it we have here?”

“Thoria, Ma’am,” she said, dipping her head respectfully.

“Oh, I’m no _Ma’am_ ,” Mallory said, smiling warmly. “I’m just a cook, my dear.”

“There’s never _just_ a cook,” Thoria said, returning the smile. “An army can’t march on an empty belly, and a castle can’t run without good food to fuel their people.”

“Well said!” Mallory laughed. “I like this one,” she said to Link. “A friend of yours?”

“Thoria’s… new in Hyrule,” Link said. “I’m showing her around.”

“How good of you,” Mallory said. She winked at Thoria. “Now, what can I get you dears?”

“A slice of that apple pie sounds nice,” Thoria said, hopefully.

Mallory smiled, and ushered them to a small table at the back of the kitchen, near to the stoves. There was a worksurface here, too, and Mallory slapped a ball of pastry onto it, scattering flour and working it with her fingers.

“Now you two just sit tight,” she said. “I’ll have this done in a whisker.”

A servant appeared and poured tea for them both. Thoria thanked them, smiling, and gazed about the kitchen as the staff bustled about. Mallory wittered away about small things, her children, the ache in her feet, the tavern gossip, amongst other things. Link made the right noises in the right places, but his mind was elsewhere.

Thoria was certainly strange, he thought. She was guarded, yet confident. Her ease of speech with Mallory made it seem as though the two were almost old friends, and despite the fact that she was almost annoying in her self-assurance, she had made him genuinely smile. It was something that came to him all too rarely these days.

His eyes traced the line of her jaw, the curve of her cheekbone, the roundness of her ears. It was unusual, though not unheard of. The Gerudo had round ears, but they also exclusively had flaming hair and dark skin. Thoria was a starlit night against snow.

He caught himself. _Starlit night against snow_?

Thoria turned and found him staring.

“Something on my face?” she asked tilting her head to one side.

“No,” Link said. “I was just thinking.”

“Penny for your thoughts?”

“Huh?” Link blinked. “I don’t understand.”

“It’s an idiom,” Thoria said. “I’m sorry. I think a lot of what I say must be confusing.”

“Only some things,” Link said. “What does that mean?”

“Penny for your thoughts? It’s an invitation to share what you’re thinking about.”

“Oh. What’s a penny?”

“A coin.”

“Uh…?”

“Never mind,” Thoria said, shaking her head and smiling. “We’ll be here all day.”

“I can think of worse places to be,” Mallory chimed in, tucking the pastry over a tin. “Now, this’ll be ready in about half an hour. Can I get you anything in the meantime?”

“What would you recommend?” Thoria asked.

“Teacakes and jam,” Mallory said, instantly. Link grinned.

The teacakes were served warm from the oven, running with butter and blackberry jam. Link devoured his in moments, scooping up the crumbs from the plate with a finger. Thoria ate more slowly, almost daintily, holding the cake between her middle two fingers and thumb. Link noticed her nails were almost half an inch long, and rounded. He suddenly became conscious of his own, bitten nails, and hid his hands under the table.

Before too long, Mallory whisked the hot apple pie to their scrubbed little table. With a flourish, she produced two forks.

“Careful, it’s hot,” she warned, winking.

She stood over them as they attacked it with relish.

“It smells fantastic,” Thoria said, eagerly shovelling a forkful into her mouth. Her eyes widened, and she choked, wincing, rolling the pie around her mouth.

“Hot?” Mallory asked, sweetly.

“Yes,” Thoria said in a small voice, sipping water. Her cheeks were pink under the smattering of freckles, and her long lashes were stuck together as her eyes watered. Link chuckled as Mallory cluttered away to the other side of the kitchen, swatting at one of the urchin boys paid to sweep the floors. He watched as Thoria blew on her next forkful and nibbled it carefully. She caught him staring again.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Link said. He dug into the pie himself, admiring the crisp, golden crust and moist insides. A graceful curl of steam wafted from the pie, and he blew, not wanting to replicate the strange woman’s mistake. Surprisingly, Thoria ate only a few more bites before laying her fork back down.

Link paused, his fork in the air until Thoria, with barely a glance, pushed the pie towards him. Shrugging, he fell upon it, finishing the rest of the meal in silence.

“I thought you’d be hungrier,” Link said, licking his fingers.

“So did I,” she replied, her voice distant.

“Is something the matter?”

Thoria shot him a look. “Oh, _no,_ I’m just alone in a strange land with no idea how to get home.” Her lip twitched towards a curl, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “ _Forgive_ me.”

Link raised his eyebrows.

“That tone is unbecoming of you,” he said, his voice low.

“The fuck you going to do about it?” she snapped. Link said nothing. She glared at him across the table, and then sighed, raising her hands.

“Sorry, alright? I’m just… I don’t know. I’m still confused, and tired.”

“You would do well to be calmer,” Link warned her. Thoria scoffed, all traces of her apology gone.

“I won’t _misbehave_ in front of important people, if that’s what you’re worried about,” she said.

“I’m considered to be important around here,” Link said.

“Yeah, sure,” Thoria said. “Guarding me and all that.”

“I found you,” Link said. “Saved you. You’re welcome.”

Thoria opened her mouth, and then closed it again.

“You’re right,” she said, softly. “I’m being an arse. Sorry.”

Link shrugged. “It’s fine. Just… you’re new in Hyrule. It would be sensible to dampen your… outspokenness until you’re more settled.”

Thoria pursed her lips and nodded, once. “I’ll remember.”

“Right.” Link rose from the table. “Let’s get out of here.”


	13. 13 - Zelda

“He’s not there!” Navi squealed, as she burst back into Zelda’s study. Zelda jolted at the sudden noise, upsetting her ink bottle. She grabbed for her blotting paper and scrubbed at the spreading mess over her desk, deep blue ink smearing the parchment and staining her gloves. She sighed. Her letter was ruined.

The fairy had left not five minutes before, barging into her chambers with a distinctly disgruntled air to announce that the strange woman was awake at last. Zelda had risen, eager to meet with the stranger until Navi had promptly flown back out of the door without so much as a word of farewell. And here she was again.

With a pained smile, Zelda looked up. “Did you say something, Navi?” she asked.

“Link!” the fairy seemed positively frantic. “I went back to find him and he’s gone! Gone! And that woman too! We must send out guards to look for him at once!”

Zelda had half-risen from her seat as the fairy had begun speaking, but now she sank back.

“Navi, he is most likely fine,” she said. She rubbed her face. “There is no need to be upset.”

“He left me,” Navi groused. “For the second time! He ignored me in Ordon as well, and-“

Navi stopped speaking as Zelda glanced at her, anger suddenly bubbling in her chest. Link’s betrayal of his duties had come as a complete shock. She remembered Impa bursting back into her chambers with the news that Link was not guarding the woman like he had been ordered to, and worse; he was not in the castle at all.

Zelda had sent Impa to guard the stranger in his place, depriving her of her valuable aide. She had paced her rooms, anxiety crippling her heart, grasping her lungs, turning her stomach. For over an hour, she had paced, wondering.

Was he hurt? Was he alive? Had the strange woman really been the harbinger of doom, and had started her reign of destruction by murdering the Hero of Twilight? To make things worse, her Father had arrived at her suite, some lackey or another having told him of the trouble. He had said nothing, but his scowl said more than his words ever could.

It had seemed like an age before the door to her suite had slammed open, and Impa had returned, hauling a shamefaced Link along with her.

The hearing had been short, intimate, and brutal. Link offered no excuse as to why he had decided to travel home instead of performing the duties he had been ordered to, and he stood in resolute silence as Impa berated him, and Rhoam finally stirred himself to declare his punishment.

“A public lashing of no less than five strikes.”

Zelda’s jaw had dropped. Even Impa had seemed surprised. Link, however, showed no fear. He barely even blinked. He had simply nodded, and waited to be excused.

As he left, Zelda had turned to her father, imploringly.

“Father, you cannot lash the Hero! It would sow dissent amongst the commons, and show us in a poor light!” she had insisted. Rhoam had barely spared her a glance.

“I am the king, and he disobeyed my orders,” he said, quietly. “If anyone else had done so, I would have them executed. A whipping is a smack on the wrist in comparison, my daughter.”

“It will do no good for morale,” Zelda had argued. “For the commons to see their Hero whipped! They adore him.”

“It would do them worse to see him beheaded,” Rhoam replied, curtly. “I will hear no more on the matter.”

Zelda came back to herself as Navi flitted nervously to her desk. Zelda watched her impassively, waiting for the fairy to continue talking as she nudged a pile of parchment with her tiny toes.

“He’s been acting different ever since that stranger arrived,” Navi said. “I don’t like it. He’s not in his right mind.”

“He certainly seems distracted,” Zelda agreed. “He does not usually do what he has done recently.”

“He’s in trouble, huh?” Navi said, coming to rest on a pile of books.

“He did not say?”

“No. He barely said a word to me last night.”

Zelda hesitated. “My father made a ruling because of his disobedience,” she said. “Link has received his sentence, which is very light, a mere… slap on the wrist.” She shook her head. “Though I do wish he had none, it pains me to think of it.”

“What is it?” Navi asked, shuffling closer.

“A light whipping,” Zelda said, looking down at her stained gloves as Navi gasped.

“Oh no! That’s horrible!” the fairy squealed, clapping her hands to her face. “How will he cope?”

“He has endured much worse, I am sure,” Zelda said, though privately, she agreed. Link had endured far too much in his short life, and she shuddered to think of the thick, studded leather tearing across his muscled back. She hoped he would be allowed to wear his tunic, as it had the sturdy mail beneath it, to cushion the worst of the blows.

“Still horrid,” Navi said. She sat down, crossing her little blue legs. Her eyes slid sideways, and Zelda wondered for a moment if there was something more the fairy wanted to say. But the silence stretched, and she sighed.

“Link will be fine,” she declared. “He knows what he did was wrong, and he accepted it. There should be no more to say on the matter.”

Navi muttered something under her breath, and nudged the splattered parchment with her foot.

“What’s this?”

“Nothing of import,” Zelda said. “Just a letter I have not the heart to begin again.”

“Well, you should send out some guards to look for Link,” Navi said. “Just in case.”

“There is no need,” Zelda said, patiently. “I worry for him as well, Navi, but he is fine. I would feel it if he were in danger.”

Navi folded her arms. “Fine. But if he gets hurt…”

“He will not. Cease your fretting, and help me find a new pair of gloves, my friend.”

Navi fluttered over obediently as they left Zelda’s reception room and moved into her bedroom. It was dominated by a gigantic four-poster that could easily sleep up to eight people, the sheets silken and pink. The curtains were a soft, white gauze, and Zelda adored it, though sometimes she felt she became lost in its vastness. It had been her room since she had been born, and everything was tailored to her tastes.

She had not had to redecorate much. Her past incarnations, it seemed, shared her love of soft pinks and peaches and crisp whites trimmed in gold. Her furniture was antique and immaculately kept. Through the bedroom to another door lead to her dressing room, the walls lined with shelves and wardrobes full of radiant raiment. Navi plucked the first pair of gloves she saw off a shelf, a pair of elbow-high, peachy, satin things that didn’t quite match Zelda’s current dress of royal blue. Zelda smiled and accepted them anyway. She did not plan to leave her chambers today, so what did it matter?

“Thank you,” she said, graciously, as Navi flittered about the shelves. She stripped off her old gloves, noticing with irritation that her skin was stained as well. She glanced in the mirror as she pulled on her new pair, and balked.

Her face was covered in ink.

“How?” she spluttered, approaching the mirror. The blue smudge ran from her forehead to her chin and over one cheek, like warpaint. Navi sniggered.

“You rubbed your face!” she laughed. “And your gloves were all inky!”

“You didn’t tell me?” Zelda gasped. “What if I had to leave?”

“I’d have told you then,” Navi said, still giggling. “You look like a bokoblin!”

Zelda stared at the fairy, and then back to her own reflection. Despite herself, she saw her lips pull upwards in the mirror, and soon, she was laughing herself.

“Oh Navi, what a sight I look!” she pulled off her new gloves. “I must wash this off. Come, sit with me.”

Navi followed her out of her dressing room and into her grand bathroom, the sunken, circular tub claiming its place in the centre of the room. Zelda walked around it to the sink, soaping a flannel and scrubbing her face until her cheeks turned pink. Thankfully, the ink washed off easily enough.

Still giggling, the pair made their way back to the reception room, and Zelda slid into her chair again, her smile fading as she took in the pile of letters before her, the rainbow assortment of unbroken wax seals taunting her. Reluctantly, she picked up the first, sealed in a gaudy yellow, as Navi fluttered to the window to stare out at the grounds below.


	14. 14 - Link

“So,” Thoria said, as they left the kitchens. “The princess wants you to be my escort. What does an escort do, exactly?”

“Makes sure you don’t get into trouble,” Link said.

“Ah, you’ve got your work cut out for you then,” Thoria said, smiling. “What should we do?”

“Do?”

“Well, I don’t really fancy sitting about in my room all day. Do you have things you need to do? I can tag along.” Thoria put her head to one side. “What does a knight of Hyrule do?”

“Whatever his king and princess commands,” Link replied, feeling a hot flush of guilt creep under his collar. “And I am to watch over you.”

“Lucky you,” Thoria said, drily. “How about a tour of the castle?”

Link shrugged. “Alright.”

They moved on. Link took her to the throne room first, and Thoria’s eyes widened.

“It’s damn big,” she said. She approached the throne, a tall, gold-plated thing with a plum-coloured cushion. As there was no royalty in attendance, there were no guards, either. Thoria spun in a slow circle, taking in the tall windows, the marble columns, the balcony above for the nobles to watch whatever was happening below. Commons were relegated to the back of the hall, behind a thick, red rope.

“It feels… new,” Thoria remarked, her eyes roving over the masterfully sculpted carvings, the polished marble pillars. She moved towards the base of the stairs that led up to the throne, carpeted in a deep plum, craning her neck to observe the Hylian crest carved above the throne.

“It is,” Link said, stepping closer to her. “The throne room was destroyed in a battle nine years ago. The rebuild was only finished two years ago.”

“What battle?” Thoria asked.

Link hesitated.

“A big one,” he hedged. “The end of a war.”

“Can I sit on it?” Thoria asked, pointing at the throne.

“No!” Link said. He moved forward, ready to grab her wrist if she decided to dart for the throne. “That is for the royal family only!”

Thoria sniffed.

“Fine,” she said. “Looks uncomfortable anyway.”

She moved closer to the throne, Link trailing close behind.

“That’s not a real wall,” Thoria said, pointing at the carved marble behind the throne.

“No,” Link said, impressed. “Well, not quite. It doesn’t go all the way up to the ceiling, and it doesn’t actually touch the other walls. It’s an illusion, designed so that the royals can escape if ever the throne room is assaulted again.” Briefly, he wondered how Thoria had been able to tell the wall was fake. When Zelda had proudly shown off her new design, he had not been able to see past the illusion until he was closer than any common would be allowed to get.

Thoria stared at the throne a while longer, and wandered back the way they came, Link following and then leading her along the great hallway.

“The doctor’s quarters are that way,” Link said, pointing. “If you are ever sick, or injured, that’s where you go.”

“What about there?” Thoria asked, pointing at a rather grand door on the other side of the hall. Link hesitated.

“The Hall of History,” he said. Thoria brightened.

“That sounds interesting,” she said. “I want to see.”

Link hesitated. He knew what was beyond the door, and he did not care for it. “It’s really not,” he said. “It’s quite boring, really.”

“To you, maybe,” Thoria said. “You know your history. I don’t. It would be absolutely fascinating to learn about.” She turned to face him, her eager smile sliding off her face like snow from a sun-warmed roof. “I don’t know how I got here,” she said, quietly. “And I don’t know how to get home. I don’t know how long I’m going to be here, so I want to learn everything I can.”

Link set his jaw. “It’s embarrassing,” he said.

“What, your history?” Thoria raised her eyebrows. “Have there been lots of scandals, lots of atrocities?” She moved to the doors and tugged one open, smiling playfully. “Trust me, I could tell you _all_ kinds of terrible things that have happened back home, some of the things you wouldn’t even believe-“

She stopped, staring. She took a step forward, and then another. Link sighed and followed.

Inside were several statues, paintings, and engravings. Each of them depicted a time long since passed. Each told their own tale. In many of the pictures was an incarnation of Zelda. In several more were likenesses of Ganon, the great boar, or Ganondorf, the King of Thieves.

In several others was Link himself. The armour that had been passed down through the ages, his tunic and cap, and the Master Sword. Some were depictions of him in battle, others were portraits, where his past self had sat in uncomfortable silence as someone had painstakingly recreated his face on canvas. Link shuddered at the memories.

Thoria stopped before a statue of one of his past incarnations, holding the Master Sword aloft, the Ocarina of Time held in his other hand, his mouth open in a wordless battle cry. Her own mouth was open, and she turned to face him as he stood behind her.

“It’s you,” she said, wide-eyed. “They’re all you.”

Link looked away, ducking her gaze. “Yes.” He clenched his jaw. Now she would know. Now she would be the same as every other person in Hyrule, lauding him “hero” and fawning over him like starstruck fools. It felt as though a crowd of them were there in the room, chattering, jabbering, pressing in on him from all sides. His chest felt tight, and he avoided looking at the corners of the Hall, where the shadows gathered.

“But…” Thoria moved from the statue to a painting, an ancient piece depicting he and Zelda battling Ganon in his boar form. “This is _old_. You’re not old.”

“No,” Link said.

Thoria turned around. “Explain?” she said. She said it softly, curiously. Link swallowed.

“It’s a long story,” he said. “Come on. Let’s go outside.”

Thoria followed, somewhat reluctantly. She cast a final, long look at the Hall of History before the door swung shut behind them. Link led them outside in silence, feeling the weight of half-a-hundred lifetimes on his shoulders. The stone walls of the castle were oppressive, heavy, and cold. He could still hear the gibbering voices in his head. He quickened his stride, Thoria trotting to keep up.

And then there was sunlight. The grounds of the castle spilled before them, lush and green and bright. The warmth of the sun on his face silenced the chattering in his mind, freeing him from the weight of stone. Link took a deep breath. There was no darkness here, only light and air.

Thoria waited as he tilted his head back, feeling the rays on his face. Birds chirruped softly, and in the distance, he could hear the bustle of Castle Town beyond the wall.

“This way,” he said, moving down the white marble steps and around, towards the castle gardens.

As they walked, Thoria was silent. Link paid no mind to the tulips or patches of lilies as they went, preferring instead to stare straight ahead. He knew Thoria was staring all around her, her soft whistles and small exclamations at the splendour was enough to tell him that. To give her credit, she was quiet for all of half a minute.

“What flower is that?” she asked, pointing.

“Lambswool,” Link said, barely registering the soft, fleecy petals of the little plant.

“And that one?” Thoria asked.

“Red bane,” Link replied. “We make healing potions from it.”

“Healing potions? How do they work?”

“I don’t know.”

“How much can they heal you? Cuts, bruises, or as much as a broken bone?”

“It depends,” Link said, distracted.

“On what?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Do roses exist here?”

“Yes, they do. Are they your favourite flower?”

“Nah, roses are cliché, always given by a hopeful suitor. They never think beyond roses.”

“It’s the same here.”

“Boring.”

“You like flowers.” He said it as a statement.

“Absolutely,” Thoria said. “But not because they’re pretty. Each flower has a language, a meaning behind it. For those who know, a carefully chosen bouquet can be a heartfelt love letter, an apology, or a threat.”

“Really,” Link said, his mind elsewhere. “Fascinating.”

“It is.” Thoria brightened. “There’s a poem about it! I’ve just remembered!”

Link became alert in an instant, turning to the dark-haired woman as she recited.

“ _There is a language, little known,_ _  
Lovers claim it as their own.  
Its symbols smile upon the land,  
Wrought by nature’s wondrous hand;  
And in their silent beauty speak,  
Of life and joy, to those who seek  
For Love Divine and sunny hours  
In the language of the flowers.”_

“That’s… quite beautiful,” he said. “Do you remember anything else?”

“Cat piss stinks,” she said.

He shot her a look and she gave an innocent smile.

Soon enough, they reached a small lake. A stream trickled in and out of it, keeping the water fresh. Link crouched down, and eased himself onto the grass in the shade of a tree, sighing as the weight left his feet. Thoria flopped down beside him.

“It’s beautiful here,” she said, after a while. Link nodded.

Thoria waited a moment, then leaned forwards. “So… you were going to tell me about all the statues and pictures of you?”

Link grunted. Hs didn’t want to. But she was looking at him, and he knew she wouldn’t let it go.

“To make a long tale shorter,” he said. “Eons ago, the Demon King Demise came to the earth, and caused havoc. The Goddess Hylia saved who she could and raised a land into the sky. One day, she was reborn into the world as a mortal, who was destined to bring life back to the surface world. She was protected by her best friend. He defeated the Demon King in single combat.

“They became the first rulers of what was to become known as Hyrule. Their descendants live on to this day. But the Demon King cursed them – his malice would follow them wherever they went, the descendant of the first Princess, Zelda, who is also the descendant of Hylia, and the spirit of the hero, eternally reborn when Hyrule’s need is greatest.”

“You,” Thoria said.

Link nodded. “Over the ages, the goddess has shown her power in all of the princesses and queens born of Hyrule, all of whom are called Zelda, by tradition. There isn’t always trouble in Hyrule. The spirit of the Hero is only reborn when he is needed.” He shook his head. “Together, they fight back the forces of darkness, and are reborn again and again, each time Demise reignites his curse.”

“You’re the spirit of the Hero.” Thoria said.

“Yes,” Link said. “And I’ve already fought through the Twilight Crisis. That was when I realised who I was.” He raised his hand and showed Thoria the triforce.

“Zelda has this too, as did Ganondorf,” he said. “It marks each of those who are destined to represent the three parts – power, wisdom, and courage, as history has foretold. Ganon was the incarnation of Demise, wielding the triforce of power. And we stopped him, as we have countless times before, in countless lives.”

He closed his eyes, waiting for the gasp as realisation settled in. He didn’t want to look, to see the vapid adoration in her eyes as her lips formed the words “ _hero_.” He didn’t want to hear her proclamations of admiration and awe. He didn’t want to see her expectations rise far beyond anything he could ever hope to be, to be placed yet again on a flimsy pedestal that he just couldn’t stay on. He didn’t want to see the light leave her eyes as she realised that he was, really, just a man.

“That must be hard,” Thoria said. Link looked up, surprised. “Having such a destiny forced on you.”

“It is an honour,” he said, automatically. “I am glad I was able to save Hyrule. It makes me glad to know the people can sleep soundly in their beds at night, without fear of a greater evil stalking them, threatening them in their homes.”

Thoria nodded, slowly.

“Today I learned,” she said, softly. She flopped back on the grass. “Your history is fascinating,” she said. “But I feel like I know nothing. Where can I learn more, without hounding you for answers all the time?”

Link thought for a minute, then smiled.

“I think I know just the place,” he said.


	15. 15 - Zelda

“He will be _fine_ , Navi,” Zelda said, looking up from her desk as Navi hovered by the window that overlooked the castle gardens. Link was down there, with the stranger. Zelda and Navi had watched for a time as they walked along, the stranger pointing out various plants, taking in the scenery and peppering Link with questions. He was as reserved as ever, seeming only to give short answers.

When Link had stopped by the lake, Zelda had gone back to her desk. She trusted him enough to know to do what was right, whatever that was. Navi had stayed by the window, face pressed to the glass.

The truth was, Zelda wanted to be at the window with Navi, watching Link as he strolled through the grounds with the stranger. She ached to gaze upon him from far above, to watch over him in case the stranger really was as dangerous as the prophecy suggested. A stronger urge was to leave her paperwork and run through the corridors and out into the sunshine, her dress billowing about her ankles, the sun in her streaming hair. He would turn, she would trip, and fall right into his arms. The stranger would turn, dark magic swelling, and she would rise and face her as Link looked on in wonder. She would protect him from whatever danger was to come.

But she couldn’t. such things were unbecoming of the princess of Hyrule.

“I just want to make sure _she_ doesn’t do anything funny,” Navi said. “Especially since he didn’t even wait for me.”

“Link can look after himself,” Zelda said. “He is the Chosen Hero, after all.” She patted the small cushion on her desk. “Here, come sit with me. I need your opinion.”

“On what?”

“Another letter from another suitor,” Zelda said, with some resignation. “Father approves of him.”

“What’s he like?” Navi asked, finally flitting away from the window. She sat on the little velvet cushion and helped herself to a piece of dried fruit from the plate nearby.

“I have never met him,” Zelda said. “He has sent me a letter.”

She flourished the parchment and read;

_Your Royal Highness,_

_I have heard many tales of your greatness, and all the people speak of your beauty in reverent tones. I have come to love you from afar, and long to make your acquaintance. To have such a woman by my side would be all the treasure in the world, and I would see to it that you are well cared for._

_I would hope that we would meet, and grow fond of each other. I long to see the sun shine in your hair, to see the stars twinkle in your eyes. To hear your laughter would be akin to the birdsong that rises with each new dawn._

“Isn’t he poetic,” Navi remarked, flopping on the cushion and propping her chin on her hand. Zelda read on.

_As my wife, my queen, my life companion, I would ensure you would never want for anything. All the powers at my disposal would be focused on your happiness, and your joy. Together, we would make powerful and beautiful children, who would unite the lands of Hyrule and beyond together at last. My family has a long history of bearing strong sons, who would make for a strong king of Hyrule, in time._

_Do respond to my letter with haste, my heart yearns for your words._

_Enticingly yours,_

_Lord Symper_

“Enticingly yours?” Navi said, scrunching her face.

“Yes, he certainly tried hard,” Zelda said, rolling up the parchment and placing it carefully on her desk with the other letters, from her other suitors. “He is quite powerful, and would make a good ally of the royal family.”

“You’re more powerful than him, though,” Navi said. She took a bite of fruit. “I don’ know what he finks he c’n do if you’re more powerful,” she said, with a full mouth.

“What do you mean?”

“’All my power would be to make you happy,’ or whatever he said. You’re more powerful, so he couldn’t make you truly happy.”

“That is not quite how it works, Navi,” Zelda said gently. “You know, we rarely marry for love these days. We marry to forge strong alliances, for the betterment of the people of Hyrule. Love, if there is any to be found, is a bonus.”

“That’s a shame,” Navi said. “I’m glad I’m not tied into that.”

“Yes, you’re quite lucky, as my parents were lucky that they found love together.” Zelda sighed. Her gaze strayed towards the window. “I’m sure I will grow to love whichever suitor I choose, but…” she left the last of her sentence unsaid.

Navi nodded, and stuffed the rest of the fruit into her mouth.

“Shame Link’s not a noble,” she said, craftily. Zelda blushed.

“He is my Chosen Knight,” she said. “He is noble in his own way.”

“Yes, but,” Navi sat up, licking her fingers. “If he was _noble_ noble, then you could marry him.”

“Unfortunately, he is not,” Zelda said. “There are laws against that kind of thing.”

Navi shrugged. “Nice to think about, though.”

“Yes, it is,” Zelda agreed. She smiled softly and shook her head. “Help me choose a suitor, Navi. Which one of these pompous hogs should I meet?”

Navi sniggered. “All of them,” she said.

“All of them?”

“Yes! That way, you can see if any of them are any good. You might think one’s nice, but then another one comes along who’s better. Or, one seems good on parchment, but in real life they look like a Bokoblin,” Navi said. “How old are these men, anyway?”

“The youngest is thirty-four,” Zelda said, sighing. Navi shook her head.

“Nine years older than you? You need someone your own age,” she said. “Someone you can relate to. Someone you’ve shared time with.”

“Well, the best way to share time is to meet with them,” Zelda said, skirting around Navi’s hinting. “I suppose you’re right, I should meet with them all.” She lifted the pile of parchment and opened each scroll, spreading them out on the desk.

“Father likes Lord Symper, and Lord Dool,” she said. “And Lord Myther.” She moved the three letters to one side of the desk. “Because they have power, resources, and allies.” Zelda shuffled the parchment. “Lord Rolan, and Lord Froal are the youngest,” she moved those two up. “And Lord Resper is popular among the noble houses,” she said, moving the last letter to the right. She sat back.

“Who’s the most handsome?” Navi asked. Zelda chuckled.

“I do not know, I do not have portraits of them.”

Navi flitted off her cushion and began to read the letters in turn. She made a face.

“This Lord Dool is a pig!” she exclaimed. “ _’I want to feel your breath at my throat as your pulse quickens._ ’ Yuck!”

“I know,” Zelda said. “He is most lecherous. But, he has a large standing army that would bolster our own forces, and he is a very disagreeable man when he feels he has been insulted. He helps supply our own army with food in hard times, and he may withdraw his aid if he doesn’t get his own way.”

“How old is he?”

“Forty-six,” Zelda said, and she made a face. Navi took Lord Dool’s letter and pushed it off the desk.

“Next one!” she said. Zelda smiled.

“I’m glad you’re here, Navi,” she said. “I know I can count on you.” Navi grinned back.

“I’m happy too,” she said, and she snatched another piece of fruit from the plate.


	16. 16 - Link

“Are you going to tell me where we’re going?” Thoria asked, as Link led her through the castle.

“You’ll see,” he said.

Thoria walked half a step behind him as they went, winding along the corridors, passing servants and guards, listening to the sounds of their footsteps on the carpet. Link cast a secretive glance at the woman beside him. The idea had come to him in a flash, and a tingle from the back of his hand told him it was the right thing to do. But the closer they got to their destination, the more nervous Link began to feel.

Had he misjudged the woman? Had he read her completely wrong, and was taking her to a perfect hellscape, instead of something she might enjoy? What would she think of him if he had got it wrong?

He shook his head. What did it matter? The woman was under his guard, a potential threat to Hyrule. Why should he care what she thought? It didn’t matter at all. Hyrule came first.

But a small part of him yearned to care.

Link stopped at a pair of tall, double doors. He placed a hand on the wood.

“You’ll find plenty to keep you busy in here,” he said.

“Keep me out of trouble, you mean,” Thoria smirked. Link shook his head, and opened the door.

Thoria stepped forward, looking at Link with an expression of inquisitiveness and disbelief. She reached the threshold and looked inside.

She went curiously still as she took in the sights before her. Her eyes widened, and her lips parted.

“Oh my,” she said.

Thoria stepped, trancelike, into the library. She looked around, and up, craning her neck to see up to the ceiling. The walls were lined with shelf upon shelf of books, and more shelves stood in neat rows along the floor. Ladders lay against them, and soft lamps burned in secure brackets. Thoria moved to the nearest shelf and ran a finger along the books, tracing the letters stamped on the spines.

“I don’t…” she said. “I can’t…”

She turned to Link, watching her closely. “There are so many,” she said. “I…”

“Read whatever you like,” Link said. “This library is probably one of the greatest collections of stories, history and facts in Hyrule. The royal family have spent generations collecting this knowledge.”

“I can… whatever I want?” Thoria spun in a slow circle, eyes wide and shining. “I don’t know what to say.”

“I remember you said you liked reading,” Link said, shrugging. “This seemed to be the best place to bring you, if you wanted to learn more about Hyrule.” Inside, he was glowing. He had been right. He watched her face as she stared at the books, her expression clear and unbridled joy.

Thoria laughed, a small, sudden noise that sounded almost like a sob. “It’s unbelievable,” she said. She turned back to him. “Thank you.”

She jumped towards him and pulled him into a hug. Link stiffened, surprised.

“Thank you,” Thoria said again, and let go, almost dashing to the nearest shelf. She began to scan the book titles, her eyes moving so quickly they seemed to blur. She plucked a book from the shelf, Link had just enough time to see that it was a collection of old fables, before almost skipping to one of the low, soft sofas and settling down. She tucked her feet under herself and propped the book on her knees. She flipped it open, and began to read.

Link watched her for a moment, wrongfooted. She had hugged him. Without reservation or expectation. When was the last time someone had _really_ hugged him? A genuine contact, borne of gratitude, and not of lust or greed or cunning?

He swallowed past the lump in his throat. Things must be different where she was from. Perhaps it was her version of a handshake. Idly, he pulled a book off a nearby shelf and walked to where she was. He sank into an armchair and turned a few pages, his mind elsewhere. He tried to read what was there, but the words didn’t stick in his mind. His gaze was drawn, over and over, to the strange woman sat opposite him, devouring childhood fables as though she were starving, and the book before her was a feast.

XXXXXXX

Thoria read for hours. She finished the book of fables quickly, and chose a new book within minutes, selecting a volume of Zora culture. Link watched as her eyebrows rose and fell, as her lips formed words that she seemed unfamiliar with, as her eyes widened and shone with fascination.

His own book lay forgotten in his lap. There had been a time, long ago, when books had held the same fascination for him. Growing up in Ordon gave him little cause to care for the written word, and though he was able to read and write, he wasn’t particularly good at it. His knowledge of history was poor at best.

When he had vanquished the twilight, Midna had left him, shattering the Mirror and his heart into a million flakes of glass that poured onto the sand like glittering snow. It felt as though a part of him had ceased to be, knowing in his bones that he would never see his friend again. Zelda had ridden with him back to the castle, found him rooms, and he had never left. Not for long.

The nobility had accepted his presence, though it didn’t stop the snide remarks, the cruel smiles, or the japes at his expense. Most were centred around how little he knew of Hyrule’s courtesies, history, or his letters. Link, seething at their pleasantly delivered derogation, determined to prove them wrong.

The library had provided some much-needed distraction, the thousands of books offering an escape from a world of pain and sorrow, directed and encouraged by the scholar Shad. He poured over the books as Zelda poured over her research, learning all he could about the pompous new world he found himself in.

But he never found what he was really looking for. He never found a way back into the twilight.

He touched the small stone hung around his neck. Midna’s last parting gift to him. Imbued with her own magic, it gave him the power to transform into a wolf at will. But he hadn’t. It didn’t feel right without Midna by his side. What would she have thought had she seen his past carved in stone and painted on canvas? Would she have fawned? No. of course not. Would she have made fun of him? Of course she would. That was her way. Would she have treated him differently? He didn’t know.

He stroked the smooth stone with his thumb, and suddenly had the urge to tear it from his throat and fling it across the room. It was a reminder of his friend, yes, but also a reminder of the curse placed on him by the Usurper King. He flinched as he remembered how his unwilling body bent and deformed, skin tearing, bones lengthening and snapping, the agony of the change so different from the cooling wash of twilight Midna had used.

He withdrew into himself, submerging himself in his past as Thoria finished and chose another book.

The Hall of History had brought back memories long forgotten. The deeds of the last decade were freshest in his mind, the temples he had cleared, the people he had met, the monsters he had vanquished. But the ancient faces of his ancestors brought their own, fragmented memories back to him.

He remembered the smooth feel of the Ocarina of Time in his hands, the instrument cold as he pulled it from the bottom of the river outside of Castle Town. How the castle and the surrounding lands had changed in the centuries that had passed since then. He remembered first seeing a slender, fire-haired Ganondorf through the castle window, standing next to Zelda. Two children about to embark on an adventure far greater than they. The confusion as his mind split, forming two different sets of memories. One as an adult, defeating Ganondorf and saving Hyrule, and one as a child, knowing of his great deeds that hadn’t happened in this time, and wouldn’t happen in his life, stopping Ganon before he even came to power.

He didn’t remember everything of his past lives. There were large chunks missing. The clearest memories were of the deeds that named him hero, or battles. He knew he only remembered the tiniest percentage of his past lives, and much of his lives were lost to history, or written in books that were revised so often that they too had lost most of the truth along the way.

He remembered soaring through the sky on the back of a great bird, the wind in his hair and joy in his heart. A land floating in the sky, the giant statue of Hylia watching over them all. A hidden land beneath a blanket of clouds. Perhaps this was what it was like for Thoria, to know that there was so much more, and only remember fragments.

A vague memory of a spiked mask with wide, staring eyes before a glaring moon bearing down upon a distant land. Four giants catching it in the sky, holding it for just long enough for him to leave the land behind and enter into yet more mystery.

His deeds had become fables, stories passed down through history. Every child in Hyrule knew at least one tale. Every person, every cognisant beast knew who he was in this life, even if they didn’t tie the stories of other heroes to him. But stories were all they knew, warped though they had become over time. They didn’t know what it felt like. They didn’t know what it was like to be there. To actually do what the fables told. To be the hero that everyone knew, to live the lie they believed, to walk as a living legend among them. The man who slew dragons and tamed Lynels. The man who walked unafraid into the Shadow Temple and came out unscathed. The man who spoke with the goddesses and bargained with demons to save his princess from mortal peril.

The man with a third eye that could always see the truth, with the strength of a hundred men, the power of an entire army. A magic cloak that made him invisible in the moonlight, save for his shadow, the power to control ice and fire and light. He grimaced. And though they did not know him to be the hero reincarnated, the people of Hyrule still built him up to be more than he could ever be.

As soon as he was recognised, their attitudes changed. They no longer treated him as a mere man, the simple presence of another being in their midst. He was the _Hero of the Twilight_ , the man who had saved them all from certain death. They admired in their lust, they adored in their fascination, and they hated in their jealousy. Save for the precious few that would tease him the same way, laugh at his mistakes and speak to him as though he were a human. But even they were subject to the worship he had so grown to despise, and he saw them all too rarely.

He watched Thoria read, her eyes flicking from side to side as she devoured the words. She hadn’t changed. But then, it was only a matter of time. She was just a stranger, and had not yet heard all the stories.

Link let his eyes glaze over as he remembered the countless foes he had faced, the battles, the temples, the monsters and the men. The Demon Sword, Ghirahim. The Demon King, Demise. Dragons. Water monsters. Ghosts and giant spiders and corpses and lynels and Ganon. Ganondorf. King Bublin. His own shadow, his darker self, brought to life by malice. His heart began to pound.

Thoria closed her book with a snap, making him jump.

“What time is it?” she said, stretching. She rubbed the back of her neck, looking out of the window. Link followed her gaze.

“Late afternoon,” he said. “Nearly evening.”

“Christ, I didn’t realise,” she said, setting the book down on the low table. Link stared. She had read _five_ books, and none of them were small.

“I’m starving,” she said, standing. “Should we go to the kitchens again?”

“No,” Link said, rising with her. “They should be serving in the Great Hall soon, we’ll go there.”

They left together, but not before Thoria returned each book to its rightful shelf. Link protested that there were scholars who would take care of it, but Thoria shot him a look that stilled the words in his throat.

They walked along the corridor together.

“Did you enjoy your books?” Link asked.

“Absolutely!” Thoria said, with a smile that lit up her face. “I had no idea just how much I was going to learn! I just can’t believe there’s a whole race of fish people! I never would have thought that anthropomorphic races actually existed!”

“Anthro… What?”

“And your Gerudo culture, I had no idea! Their language is fascinating,” Thoria continued.

“You can understand Gerudo?” Link asked, astonished.

“Well, no, not yet, but I think I could pick it up, given enough time.” Thoria waved the question away. “But seriously, their culture is amazing, how on earth is it that only one man is born every century? That can’t just be blind luck. And having to live in the desert for so long is unbelievable, it’s no wonder they turned to thievery before…”

She chattered on as they walked, gesturing animatedly and smiling. Link already knew most of what she spoke of, and much of it was the sort of thing learned as a very small child, but her enthusiasm was contagious. Link found his own, placid smile widening as they journeyed on, correcting her gently as she mispronounced “Kakariko” and telling her that the fabled Princess Ruto was actually the water sage. Thoria’s eyes nearly popped out of her face when he casually revealed he had met her, in a past life. Link declined to expand on the story, preferring to keep the memories of the love-sick fish locked away. He shuddered.

Suddenly, Thoria stopped in her tracks.

“I’m twenty-seven!” she burst out. “I just remembered!”

She turned and stared at Link, beaming. “I remember how old I am!”

“That’s great,” Link said, smiling encouragingly. “What else do you remember?”

“Nothing,” Thoria said, with a cheerful shrug. “But it’s a start.”

They arrived at the Great Hall to find it half-full. General Balla was at his usual table, tearing into a large and bloody haunch. Various other nobles clustered together, chattering away. The clamour quietened as Link entered, and all eyes turned to Thoria. She hesitated for a moment.

“This way,” Link said, ushering her to a table in the corner. Thoria stared unabashedly back at the nobles as they stared at her, until one by one, they turned away, and resumed their conversations.

“Nosy lot, aren’t they?” Thoria said as she sat down. She affected a cool demeanour, but Link was unconvinced.

“They’re just curious,” he said. “They’ve probably heard all sorts of gossip. Life is dull if you’re rich and powerful.”

“Spare me,” Thoria said. “Life is dull if you allow it to be so. Lazy makes for dull living.”

Link nodded. “True. But don’t let them hear you say that. They’re all powerful people, with great influence.”

Thoria’s eyes glittered. “I’ve dealt with powerful people before. I’m sure of it. They don’t scare me.”

“They’re not meant to scare you,” Link said. “They simply expect respect.”

“Respect is earned,” Thoria said, as though the matter was closed.

“Between you and I, maybe,” Link argued. “But certain positions offer certain privileges.”

Thoria grunted. “Whatever.”

Irritated, Link caught the eye of a serving girl, who brought over a bottle of wine and two glasses, and poured for them. Thoria smiled at her, and thanked her kindly. Link looked at her curiously as the serving girl left.

“You sneer at nobles, yet are polite to servants,” he said. “I don’t understand you, Thoria.”

“You would be rude to her?” Thoria asked, sipping the wine. She smiled. “That’s very nice. The wine.”

“I wouldn’t be rude to her,” Link said, frowning. “Of course I wouldn’t. But I wouldn’t be rude to a noble, either.”

“Nor would I,” Thoria said. “I am rude to those who are rude to me. In chess, I always play the black.”

“What?!” Link said, exasperated. “Can you try to make sense, for once?”

“I allow others to make the first move,” Thoria said, her voice cool. “Forgive me for not adjusting to a whole new world in a matter of hours.”

Link clenched his teeth together to keep from snapping back. Thoria leaned back in her chair, her wineglass between her long fingers.

“That serving girl has probably had a hard life,” she said, quietly. “She spends her days waiting on other people, likely with no kind word for her troubles. More often than not, she’ll be shouted at or beaten if she makes a mistake. I’d hate to live my life like that. So, she has my respect for carrying on with the decorum that she does.”

Link looked over to where the girl was. She was pouring wine for one of the noblemen, who didn’t bother to hide that he was staring down the front of her apron. The girl rose, with a dignity Link hadn’t noticed before, and stepped carefully away, eyes roving over the room, looking for the next person to serve.

“I never thought of it like that,” he admitted.

“Few living in luxury do,” Thoria said. She nodded towards the lewd noble. “But people like him demand respect. Why? What has he done to command it, other than be born with a certain name? Oh, I won’t be rude, believe me, I will be cordial and polite, but respectful? No. My respect is earned through attitude and deed.”

“I don’t live in lux-“ Link began. The words died on his lips as something heavy settled on his shoulders. He lived in Hyrule Castle and was the princess’s Chosen Knight, entitled to all the luxury he could stomach. How uncomfortable it had once made him, and how used to it he had now become.

Link said nothing as another servant brought them plates of steaming meat and vegetables. He said nothing while they ate, nothing whilst their empty plates were cleared.

Life in the castle was not suited to him, he thought as Thoria poured them both another glass of wine, draining half her glass quickly. He was a farmer. He was raised a farmer, and thought like a farmer. Or so he had believed. How was it that he did not consider the feelings of those who he once shared a life status with? When did he change so much that he was no longer a farm-boy playing at being a soldier, and became someone who lived in a castle and rubbed elbows with royalty?

When was it that his frustration at the splendour around him not being used to help the needy became apathy? When was it that he came to expect his linens to be fresh and clean with no effort from himself, to have food readily available to him, to have his words listened to? When was it that he changed so much that his eyes passed over the objectification of a girl, instead of burning hot at the injustice of it?

He withdrew into himself as Thoria poured them both yet another glass of wine, throwing hers back with no obvious effect. But it was through a light haze that he led her back to her rooms and bade her goodnight, his mind elsewhere, and a part of him missing that he did not know he had lost.


	17. 17 - Zelda

“Enter,” Zelda said, as someone tapped on her suite door. The door opened, gliding silently on its hinges to reveal Impa and Link.

“Here he is,” Impa said, standing aside and allowing him to step through. Link bowed as Impa crossed the room and disappeared into Zelda’s bedroom.

“Link,” Zelda smiled, laying down her quill and rising. “Thank you for coming.”

Link nodded and stood by the door, his back straight. His eyes flickered from one side of the room to the other, taking it in. A second passed, and he looked back to her.

“How can I help, your Highness?” he said.

Zelda took a moment to compose herself. His expression gave no indication of what he was thinking. Was he angry with her? Upset that her father had decreed what he had following his disobedience? She could not tell. She rose, carefully laying down her quill on the blotting pad. “I would like you to tell me what you have found out about the stranger.”

“Thoria,” Link said. His mouth twisted oddly. “She is… different.”

“Different? How so?”

“She… well.” Link shifted his weight. “She seems to have an insatiable thirst for knowledge. All day, she’s been asking me questions about Hyrule, our history, our culture. She read five books in seven hours in the library, and then talked non-stop about them.”

“So, she is inquisitive,” Zelda said. “Do you think she is searching for weaknesses?”

Link shook his head. “I don’t think so,” he said. “She seemed genuinely curious. She said she didn’t know how she got here, or how to get home, or how long she’d be here, so she wanted to learn about Hyrule. I guess she wants to fit in.”

Zelda touched her chin with two fingers. He didn’t _seem_ upset. He seemed like he always was. Stoic, measured… Handsome.

“Did she tell you anything of where she came from?”

“Nothing I could really make use of. Odd phrases and fragments. She did not expand when I pressed her.”

“Do you think she could learn enough about our culture to fit in?”

Link paused.

“In time,” he said, carefully. “Thoria has some interesting views.”

“Such as?” Zelda pressed.

Link gave a tight smile.

“Over dinner, many of your courtiers were staring at her. She stared back, quite unashamed, and then told me she has no respect for the pompous rich.”

Zelda raised her eyebrows. “I do not appreciate that kind of attitude.”

“But she then showed respect to a serving girl,” Link continued. “She explained that the girl had probably had a hard enough life as it was, and was good enough to serve others, so she had Thoria’s respect.”

Zelda shook her head. “That makes absolutely no sense. The nobility of Hyrule strive to care for those less fortunate in the country, it is through their generosity and taxes that we have been able to rebuild what has been destroyed, to feed them when food is short, to-“

She stopped. Link was looking around the rooms again, taking in the pristine white carpet, the marble pillars holding up the high ceiling, the gold filigree decorating the borders of the walls.

“ _That_ is different,” she said, hardening her tone. “I did not build this castle, and certain things are expected of royalty.”

Link blinked, eyes widening.

“I’m not sure what I said to offend you, but I apologise,” he said, bowing. Zelda cursed herself.

“No, it is not you,” she said.

Link smiled. “That’s a relief. I’d hate to think I’ve upset you.”

Zelda returned his smile with a demure upturn of her lips. She ran a hand over her hair. “I do not think you could ever upset me, Link. However, I do not like a stranger, to whom we have shown the utmost hospitality, challenge and spit on those who have made it possible.”

“I don’t think that’s what she was doing,” Link said. “Perhaps I didn’t explain it very well.”

Zelda waved her hand. “Never mind. Did you learn anything else of her?”

Link shrugged. “She remembers nothing of herself, but oddly, remembers things about the land she is from. More with each passing moment, it seems.”

“That is odd,” Zelda agreed. “Do you think she is hiding something?”

“Possibly,” Link agreed. “She claims it’s some kind of… uh… amneeshuh. Memory loss. I’ll find out.”

Zelda smiled. “I know you will.”

“If she _is_ hiding something,” Link continued. “It’s probably because she’s scared. She affects confidence, and seems happy to talk to anyone… but she is a stranger in a strange land. She’s alone. I would be afraid too.”

“You are not afraid of anything,” Zelda said.

Link’s face went curiously blank. Then, he bowed.

“Your Highness, that is all I’ve found out. Do you require me for anything else?”

Half-a-hundred possibilities ran through Zelda’s mind. She could ask him to stay, and share a cup of tea with her. Or share a cup of wine. Or her bed. She swallowed.

“The prophecy,” she said. “I believe I have completed it.”

Link’s expression didn’t change, but he gave her his full attention. Zelda stepped to her desk and drew out the parchment from beneath the Historia. Without prompting, Link approached, standing closer to her than Zelda would ever allow of anyone else, except for Impa. She cleared her throat and ducked her head to the parchment, allowing her hair to hide the colour of her cheeks.

 _“Dark times may befall Hyrule when a dark stranger comes,”_ she read. _“They will have power beyond reckoning, and the wisest minds will fall prey to dangers of their own making. The homes of the innocent will light in the fires of fury and courage will kneel before a broken heart. Beware the betrayal, the spirit is loyal to a false god.”_

Link’s eyes darkened. Zelda watched him anxiously as his eyes roved over the parchment, taking in her elegant script.

“What do you think?”

“I don’t like it,” he said, slowly. “It doesn’t bode well.”

“No,” Zelda agreed. “But I cannot fathom just what the danger is, aside from this stranger. You must watch her carefully, Link. I have not the proof to eliminate the problem before it occurs…” she trailed off, hoping he would say something. He didn’t. “But I hope you will be able to see the danger before it happens, and deal with it accordingly,” she finished.

Link nodded. “I will.”

“Do you have any idea of what it might be? The danger?”

Link shook his head. “I don’t. Whether it means Thoria will bring darkness herself, or is simply a warning of hard times to come… I don’t know. I wouldn’t want to make that guess without more evidence.”

“I hope you find it,” Zelda said. He was still close. His hand moved as if to rise and pat her shoulder. It hovered for half a second, before Link scratched his nose. Zelda held back a sigh, imagining the warm weight on her shoulder, the tips of his fingers on her neck. There had been a time, when they were teenagers, when she was taller than him by half a head. Now, he was a head taller than her. She had to tilt her head to look into his eyes. Eyes that were as feral and blue as the day she had first met him, cursed into the form of a beast. She wondered, then, what it would have felt like to stroke his fur, to touch his face as both a wolf and a man. She shivered and berated herself silently for her girlish fancy.

Impa slipped back into the room and coughed delicately. “Your Highness,” she said, quietly. “It is nearing the midnight hour, and you barely slept last night. You must rest.” Zelda stiffened, and set her shoulders. She shot a look to her aide, who gazed back impassively.

“If I may,” Link said, quietly. “Impa’s right. Princess, you seem tired, I’m concerned for your health. Please don’t let me keep you any longer than I have to.”

“Your company is pleasurable,” Zelda said. “But yes, Impa is right.” She sighed. “I must rest. I give you your leave.”

Link bowed once more, and turned to the door. As he opened it, he paused, and half-turned. His eyes were shadowed under his lowered brows.

“When…?”

“Tomorrow, after nightfall,” Impa declared. “I will find you.”

Link nodded silently, and backed out of the room. Zelda watched the door a long minute, her heart beating loudly in her ears. He was concerned for her. He cared. She allowed herself a small smile before returning to her desk.

“Zelda,” Impa said. “I meant it when I said you had to sleep.”

“I know,” Zelda replied. “I wish to write up what Link has told me. Then I’ll sleep.” She dipped her quill and smiled at her oldest friend. “I promise.”


	18. 18 - Link

Link jogged down the marble steps of the castle, past the guards posted at the grand front doors. The night air was cool on his face, and the lightest breeze whispered through the huge courtyard. He yanked up the hood of his cloak, and strode in the direction of Castle Town. The patrolling guards ignored him as he ignored them, lost in his thoughts.

Earlier, he had left Thoria at her door, standing outside a moment as she bade him goodnight. He wondered if he was supposed to stay with her at night as well. He hoped not. He had his own things to do, and he couldn’t do them with anyone else there.

Leaving Thoria behind, he had been on his way along the corridor when he had been collared by Impa and taken to see Zelda in her opulent chambers. He had kept an agonising count of the minutes in his head until she had finally dismissed him, and then he finally had made for his own room. As he went, he had pondered the prophecy, the words circling in his mind like a flock of keese.

Reaching his room, Navi was already there, sulking in her little house.

“Hello, Navi,” he said.

She grunted in reply.

“Have you had a good day?”

“Fine.”

Link paused.

“Is something wrong?”

“No.”

Link waited, silent and still. Eventually, Navi sighed.

“You’ve spent the whole day with that woman,” she said. “You didn’t wait for me.”

“Zelda asked me to guard her,” Link said. “You know that.”

“But you should have let me come with you,” Navi said. “I went and told Zelda she was awake, like you asked, then when I came back, you were gone.”

Link winced. He’d completely forgotten.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I was…”

“Busy,” Navi finished for him. “I understand.”

She had her back to him.

“Come with us tomorrow,” Link said. “We’ll probably be in the library all day, Thoria likes it there.”

“She does, does she?” Navi said. “Well, count me out. I can’t do anything in there, the books are all too big. I’ll spend the day with Zelda again.”

“Okay,” Link said, puzzled. “If that’s what you want to do.”

“It is.”

“Alright,” Link opened his wardrobe and pulled out his cloak. “I’ll be back in a few hours.”

Navi turned round, and fluttered into the air. “Where are you going?”

“Out,” Link said. “I have to… see to Epona.”

“I’ll come,” Navi said.

“No, it’s late,” Link said. “You should rest. I won’t be long.”

“I want to come,” Navi stated, flying to his shoulder. She settled, grasping his earring. Link clenched his jaw and scooped her up.

“Navi, I won’t be long. Just stay here, okay?”

Navi glared at him. “I want. To come.”

Link drew a deep breath. “Navi. I need an hour by myself.”

The fairy pouted. “You never said that before the woman got here.”

Link made a face. “What on earth is that supposed to mean?”

The fairy folded her arms and looked away, nose in the air. Link shook his head, and walked to the little house. He put Navi back on her bed, whilst she studiously ignored him.

“See you later,” he said, glancing uneasily out of the window. It was almost midnight, and he had to hurry. He was almost to the door when Navi spoke.

“What if something happens to me while you’re gone? I’m much safer with you. If you don’t want me coming with you, you should stay. I might get hurt otherwise.”

Link turned around, incredulous.

“Navi, you’re in _Hyrule Castle_ ,” he said. “What could possibly happen to you here?”

Navi sniffed. “On your head be it,” she said.

Link opened his mouth to argue, and decided against it. He left, closing the door more forcefully than usual. He strode down the corridor, swirling his cloak about his shoulders.

He reached Castle Town, anger still bubbling within him at the memory. Navi had rarely acted so poorly. She was in a foul mood, and Link just couldn’t figure out why. She didn’t have to be with him every second of every day. He grimaced. She would probably follow him to shit if he allowed it.

He took a steadying breath. He was alone now. Alone was good.

Still the prophecy ran through his mind. The allusions to the triforce, the threat of the darkness to come. “ _They will have power beyond reckoning, and the wisest minds will fall prey to dangers of their own making._ ” Link shivered as a cool breeze hushed along the street. Whoever the dark stranger was, they would be dangerous, and powerful. As powerful as Ganondorf, or even more so? Link shuddered at the thought of a being more powerful than the self-proclaimed King of Evil.

And the thought that Zelda could be in danger… that was nothing new. As the princess and future queen, her life was always at stake. But the prophecy threatened that the danger would be of her own doing… it didn’t make sense. Zelda was far too wise to put herself in danger.

Another line jumped out to him. “ _Courage will kneel before a broken heart._ ” He did not know what that meant. The only people he knelt to was Zelda and Rhoam. And no being in Hyrule would ever get close enough to his heart to break it.

The streets were empty, save the odd figure stumbling along, no doubt turfed from some tavern or another. Link could faintly hear raucous laughter in the distance, emanating from one of the seedier alehouses, tucked away down a side-street, out of sight of the main town.

He had a sudden longing for a good, strong ale, and boisterous company. To drink and to forget.

The desire vanished as quickly as it came. The alehouses in Castle Town would not be a good idea. Everyone knew him. The men would want to fight him, to prove their strength, and the women would want to bed him, a hero to conquer in their own way. Such was the way of things.

Link loped along the dark streets, the sliver of moonlight ahead barely enough to see by. But he knew the way.

Down a street, turn at another, and down the alley. At the end, knock three times quickly, five times slowly on a boarded-up door. Link pulled his cloak tighter about himself as a hidden panel in the wood slid back, and a red eye peered out. It looked him up and down.

“Password?” said a scratchy voice.

“ _Feasgar_ ” Link replied.

The panel slid shut, and the boarded-up door opened. Link slipped inside, into a dimply lit, cramped stone room.

Bottles were everywhere. Balanced on shelves, piled on old barrels, hung from the ceiling. Each was filled with a liquid of some kind, in acid greens, ruby reds and thunderous blue. Except for those above. Those bottles held the swirling, glowing souls of poes. Link supressed a shudder as he went, feeling their empty eyes turn to him as he passed beneath them. The walls were dank, cold stone, and something dripped steadily in the corner.

The owner of the shop slid a deadbolt into place, and scuttered around to the back of the room, where an old table and some boxes served as a counter. He was dressed in a purple, hooded cloak and ratty, pale clothes. His limbs were stick thin and pale. His head was covered and shrouded in shadow, save for his glowing red eye, staring out from the depths of the hood.

“Whaddaya want?” the merchant said.

“The usual,” Link said. “Sleeping draught. A month’s worth.”

The merchant tutted and began to shuffle things behind the counter.

“Hard to come by, this is,” he said. “The ingredients. Harder to make. Might get costly if ya keep buying so much.”

“It’ll cost more if I don’t,” Link said.

“Of course, of course,” the merchant replied. “Can’t save Hyrule on no sleep, now, can we?”

Link said nothing. The merchant paused a moment, before shrugging and continuing his rummaging. Eventually, he straightened, a tightly wrapped parcel in his spiderlike hands. Link stepped closer, and the poes in their bottles began to chatter, their voices muffled. Their pulsing, glowing spirits sent odd washes of colour across the walls, where shadows coiled and distorted. On every wall, Link could see his own shadow, bizarrely bent, growing and shrinking and skating around the room. The red eye of the merchant was reflected in the glass surfaces of the bottles, doubled by the twice-tough glass. Link’s chest tightened, and he held out his hand for the package.

“Four hundred rupees,” the merchant said. Link raised his eyebrows.

“It was a three and forty last time,” he said.

“And it’s four now,” the merchant replied. “I tol’ you, it’s darn tricky to make. I’m already giving ya a bulk discount.”

Link curled his lip and dug into his wallet. He cursed.

“I only have three and sixty,” he said.

The merchant shrugged, and opened the parcel. He pulled out ten of the little bottles.

“You get these when you get the rest of the money,” he said.

“That’s hardly fair,” Link said.

“Up to you. You take twenny or you take none.”

Link glared, and dumped the money on the counter. “Fine,” he said. He held out his hand for the parcel, which the merchant sealed and flipped over to him, spinning it in a lazy arc. Link snatched it from the air and held it close to his chest.

“You ent buying anything else, so out you go,” the merchant said, his eye glowing. “Bring more money next time.”

With a grimace, Link turned on his heel and undid the deadbolt, shouldering his way back outside. The poes chittered as he went, their soft, evil voices haunting on the still air.

Link pocketed the packet in the darkness of the street, listening to the deadbolt slide home behind him. Furiously, he yanked his hood up and strode down the alley, heading for the centre of town. At least he could have most of a month’s worth of rest, he thought as he went. But if the price kept going up, he would have to find another way to keep the nightmares at bay. He increased his pace, eager to get back, and to sleep.

Link turned onto the main road, and paused. He twitched an ear. The road was strangely quiet. A prickle ran down the back of his neck.

Something was watching him.

Cautiously, he lifted his hand to the hilt of his sword, strapped to his back. He cast his gaze about the town square, over the ornate fountain, the dark shop fronts, the trees decoratively placed and pruned. He sucked in his breath.

By the gate leading to Hyrule fields was a golden wolf. It watched him silently, sitting proud and regal on the cobblestone. The guards to either side of the gate didn’t seem to notice the shining animal. Link took a cautious step forward, and then another, hardly daring to believe his own eyes. It had been nine years since he had last seen the spirit, and he half-believed it was an illusion, brought on by his lack of sleep and nightmares.

The wolf rose, and padded away through the closed gate.

Link cursed and leapt forward in a dead sprint, dashing to the gate. Deciding he didn’t want to stop for the guards, Link turned quickly, using the shadows and stalls as cover. He took a running jump at a pile of crates, pulling himself up and over them quickly and silently. He leapt at the rough stone wall, fingers digging into the protruding stones. He levered himself up, up and over the lip of the wall, glancing left and right for signs that he had been spotted.

There was none. He jumped to the other side of the wall, clearing the ten-foot space with ease, his cloak fluttering behind him. He stared out over the dark fields. There was no golden wolf to be seen. He swore quietly. He fumbled inside his tunic for his necklace, the charm that Midna had left him. He could turn into a wolf now. He could use his senses to find the golden wolf in the darkness.

He hesitated. If he changed, would he change the way he had with Midna? Would he be a complete wolf, his clothes and items stored in some magical way? Or would he have to hide them to collect later? Would he even be able to change back into a Hylian? It would be just like Midna to play one last joke on him. He tucked the charm back inside his tunic, resigning himself to the loss of the golden wolf.

But as he crouched atop the wall, a strange sound whispered through the night. The soft, but unmistakeable sound of an ocarina, somewhere in the darkness.

Link didn’t hesitate. He swung over the wall, scaling down it as easily as a lizard. His feet hit the ground, and he took off, heading towards the piping music. It didn’t grow any louder, but it did not grow fainter, either.

Panting, Link headed towards a copse of trees, as the music, at last, began to grow. It was a melody he knew well, and one he hadn’t heard for what felt like several hundred years.

Saria’s song.

Link slowed as he entered the trees, staring around him. It was almost pitch black, save for a soft, golden glow head of him. Stumbling over the hidden roots and fallen branches, Link made his way towards the light.

He came upon a small clearing lit with gold. The light seemed to emanate from a figure seated in the middle of the grass. A figure dressed in a green tunic and hat, a brighter shade than his own, with gold-spun hair and long ears. He was playing a blue ocarina, eyes closed as he swayed with the music. Link swallowed, and approached.

The figure stopped playing and looked up. He smiled. His face was a face Link saw in every reflective surface he passed. Though his hair was lighter and styled differently, and his eyes were less feral and more woodland fae, it was clear who he was.

It was his ancestor, the Hero of Time.

Link stopped a few feet away, as the light pulsed once, blindingly bright. He threw up his hands to shield his eyes, and when he lowered them, the Hero’s Shade stood before him. Taller than he and clad in rotting, shattered armour, skeletal limbs only half-visible in the golden light. One eye glowed an ethereal red, the other a hollow, black socket. From it, the distant memory of agony echoed, an echo of blackness, of an unearthly scream of pain as the arrow stole half his sight from him.

“I cannot stay,” the Shade said, without waiting. “I have come to warn you.”

“About what?” Link asked, coming closer. It was warm in the light, and there were no shadows.

“Dark times are coming,” the Shade said. “And they do not come from whence you might think.”

“Thoria?” Link asked. “Will she cause it? Is she destined to bring darkness to Hyrule?”

“I cannot say,” the Shade said. “I do not know. But she will play an integral part in the shape of your life to come. Make your choices wisely, Hero of Twilight. Much depends on this.”

“I don’t understand,” Link said, desperately. “What do I need to do?”

“Listen to your heart,” the Shade said. “Save Hyrule.”

“How can I?” Link said, and the memory of the alter flashed into his mind. He winced, and his voice hitched. “I… I’m not the man I was.”

“You are the man you were meant to be,” the Shade said, and the light began to dwindle.

“Wait!” Link said, rushing forward. He took the Shade’s hand. “It’s been years. Please stay. I need your help. Guide me like you did before!”

“I have no more to teach you,” the Shade said, and his voice was full of regret.

“I don’t know what to do,” Link said, dismayed at the desperation in his voice. “How can I defend Hyrule from a danger I know nothing about?”

“Trust yourself,” the Shade said. “You have my spirit, my courage, my skills. You have my faith that you will do what is right.”

He gripped Link’s hand tightly, even as he began to fade. Link clung on, willing his ancestor to stay, praying frantically to the goddesses for just one more minute, one more moment with the Shade. He tightened his grip, feeling bones beneath the torn glove slowly become nothing, and he was left grasping empty air in a black tangle of trees.


	19. 19 - Zelda

Zelda woke with an undignified snort, her neck aching. She pushed herself up, off her desk, dismayed to see a small puddle of saliva marring the parchment that contained her notes on the stranger. She groaned and rubbed her eyes, peering blearily at the timepiece on the mantle above the fire.

It was the seventh hour of morning. An hour before she was due to begin her duties.

“So, you’re finally awake,” came a voice.

Zelda turned, wincing as the movement twinged her neck. “Why didn’t you wake me?”

“I advised you sleep, Zelda, and you preferred to write your notes.” Impa approached, her eyes bright and irritatingly alert. “I thought it best to let you sleep where you did, instead of waking you to move you to your bed.”

“I wish you had woken me,” Zelda grumbled, stretching again, rolling her neck from side to side. “I want a bath.”

Impa bowed and moved for the bathroom. Soon, the sounds of running water broke the stillness of the reception room. Zelda rose, tenderly probing her neck and shoulders, and moved into the bathroom, which was gradually filling with steam. Impa helped her out of her fine, if wrinkled dress, and into the hot water. She soaped her back and washed her hair, her strong fingers working the tension out of her shoulders. After a moment, Zelda began to relax, the hot water soothing in the stillness of the white-tiled room.

“What is my agenda for today?” she asked sleepily, the water sloshing as she moved her hands across the surface.

Impa produced a list from underneath her cloak.

“You have a council meeting in an hour, and then you are to listen to the commons and their grievances,” Impa declared. “After which,” she paused. “You have a free afternoon to do as you would. I recommend you catch up on your sleep.”

“I have too much to do,” Zelda said, her eyelids drooping as she slumped against the side of the bath.

“Zelda,” Impa’s voice was stern. “I have just told you that you have a free afternoon.”

“I would meet with the stranger,” Zelda said. “I think it would be proper to introduce myself, and get an understanding of what she is.”

Impa sighed.

“As you wish,” she said, and dumped a pitcher of water on Zelda’s head.

XXXXXXX

Dry and dressed in a fine, blue gown, Zelda paced the corridor outside the council chambers. Her stomach growled, but she ignored it. She would eat later. There was too much to do. At last, she heard the sound of voices, her council wandering up the corridor. Zelda quickly turned the handle of the door and slipped inside, sweeping to the head of the enormous table and settling in the ornate chair.

She steepled her fingers and composed herself as the council trickled in, each bowing to her as they came and took their seats. A servant slid around the table, pouring goblets of wine and placing platters of pastries and cakes before the nobles, who immediately began to peck at the food like so many hungry keese. The remnants of breakfast were still on General Balla’s moustache.

A servant offered her a plate of the finest finger foods, and Zelda waved her away impatiently, her gaze on her notes.

As the nobles settled, Zelda ran through the agenda, ordering her thoughts.

“Welcome,” she said, her voice soft, yet cutting through the murmuring and munching with the efficiency of a knife. “Thank you all for coming.”

She took a breath.

“We have had no reports of any further hostilities from monsters on the road, and we believe any intelligent or mobilised forces to be scattered. General Balla, you have my thanks. Your soldiers and knights have done well.”

Balla waved a meaty hand. “It was Ser Link who did most of the hard work,” he rumbled. “Though my lads did well in the clean-up.”

Zelda nodded. “Hyrule’s recovery is all but completed. Llewellyn, how are the outlying villages coping now?”

Slim and bespectacled, the man stirred.

“Better now than a year ago, Highness. We should be able to cease aid packages within a few months. The villages and towns are self-sufficient, more or less. The crops are flourishing, the herding animals breeding well again. We should have recovered our losses in another few years, if things remain this good.”

Zelda offered a quick prayer to Hylia to make it so. “Have their defences been fortified?”

“Well enough. With the enduring peace, we have time to recover our own monetary losses. The treasury is looking somewhat bare, your Highness.”

Zelda bit her lip. “What are our plans to recover funds?”

Councillor Trebon spoke up, his voice a low drone. Within moments, Zelda found herself tuning out as he prattled on about raising the commons taxes by an “appropriate” amount, and trading with the surrounding countries. She forced herself to pay attention, but found it increasingly difficult as Llewellyn’s words repeated in her mind.

_Enduring peace._

_Enduring peace._

Zelda shook herself.

“Thank you,” she said, cutting off Trebon was a raised hand. “I must now confess, I did have an ulterior motive for calling this meeting. There appears to be a new strangeness in Hyrule, and we all must be vigilant in the times to come.”

Mutters broke out around the table, a low buzzing like that of bees from a cautious hive. Not yet angry, but all it would take was one misplaced foot for them to swarm. Zelda did not miss the dark looks that passed between the members of her council, nor did she miss the looks that were passed her way when the culprit believed her gaze was elsewhere.

“Is this to do with the new woman Ser Link is escorting?” Lady Cassandra asked, her puffy hands clasped over her round stomach. Her frilly pink gown made her look like a melting cake, Zelda thought. She took a moment to consider the implications of her answer before speaking.

“It is. The woman has arrived in Hyrule under… mysterious circumstances, and I myself have found a prophecy that suggests new times of trouble will soon befall Hyrule.” Zelda said, carefully.

“Execute the stranger,” General Balla barked, to murmurs of agreement from around the table.

“No,” Zelda said, raising her hands again. This time, the council took longer to quieten. “She has given us no cause for concern, and his Grace the King has requested she not be harmed unless cause is given.”

Councillor Trebon sat back in his chair, grasping his goblet of wine. His cheeks were already ruddy in the morning light.

“Your Highness,” he began. “How are we to trust in this prophecy?”

Zelda raised her hand, presenting the back of it to the council. “My triforce tells me that the prophecy is true.”

“And she’s not dead why?” Balla said. “The last time a stranger came to Hyrule, we were all doused in twilight!”

“I have already told you,” Zelda replied, coolly, choosing to ignore the general’s implication. “Whilst my father does not believe in the prophecy, I believe we may be due difficult times. We do not know if this stranger will be the cause of the trouble, is simply an indicator that it is coming, or has nothing to do with it whatsoever. We must prepare ourselves.”

“For what?” Lady Cassandra said. “Do you know what trouble will come?”

“I do not,” Zelda admitted.

“Do not think my words to be accusatory,” Councillor Trebon said, in a tone that held every ounce of blame. “But the last time this happened, Hyrule entered a war that we are still recovering from.”

Zelda felt her cheeks grow hot. Nearly a decade had passed, and yet they still could not let go of her mistake. The vultures took every opportunity to throw the failure of a teenager thrust upon the throne back in her face. She raised her chin defiantly, refusing to be baited.

“We must prepare. We must build up our supplies, and gather our resources. We must send word to the farms to send us what they can from their crop, to store in case of famine. We must construct giant barrels to store water, in case of drought. We must…”

Zelda listed her precautionary measures, watching the council to ensure they paid attention. Llewellyn, as ever, scratched detailed notes as she spoke. As she finished, the council began to chatter and bicker amongst themselves, arguing over who would take on what task, and how. Llewellyn shook his head, running his finger along his notes.

“It will be expensive,” he murmured, his voice barely audible over the clatter of voices. “Princess, how would we afford this?”

Zelda shook her head. “You are the head Treasurer,” she replied. Llewellyn grimaced.

“Hyrule has not enough to trade, and less to bargain,” he said. “It is too soon after the Twilight Crisis. We are not recovered enough to fight off an unknown threat.” He shuffled his papers. “We can afford to take one or two precautionary measures, Highness, but not all of them. The outlying towns and villages would not be sufficiently protected, if we are to bolster our own defences. This task would be impossible without outside aid.”

Zelda closed her eyes for a fraction longer than a blink. “Aid such as?”

“Marriage,” Lady Cassandra said, instantly. “You are not yet wed, your Highness. A suitable husband could bolster our resources and protect us from whatever it is we must face.”

“Yes,” Lord Arran said. He was a short, yet burly man, with a curled little beard and three fingers on his left hand. “A suitable marriage would be prudent at this time.”

Zelda clenched her fists under the table. “I am aware.”

“We could do with a new King,” Lady Cassandra mused aloud.

“My father is not yet dead,” Zelda said, coldly, and the council glanced at her nervously.

“I apologise, that was not my implication,” Lady Cassandra said, in a tone that offered no apology whatsoever. “I simply meant that we would all feel a little better if we knew there was someone ready to take the throne once he has passed on.”

“ _I_ will take the throne,” Zelda said. “Whatever husband I choose will rule by my side, not in my stead.”

The council shared glances between themselves. Zelda waited, her pulse fluttering in her throat. Her jaw was clenched so tightly she feared she may crack a tooth.

“Has… has your Highness chosen a suitor?” Llewellyn asked.

“I have the matter in hand.” Zelda replied.

“You must choose a husband who is wealthy,” Councillor Trebon announced.

“A good army is what we need,” General Balla remarked.

“A handsome face makes for handsome children,” Lady Cassandra said, wistfully.

“Strong borders and good resources,” Lord Yorrel said.

“Enough!” Zelda cried. The council went silent, staring at her. She took a steadying breath. “I will choose my husband in due course. Do not think I do not consider the country when I do so.”

She rose from the table, suddenly weary. The council rose with her, and she felt their eyes crawling over her skin. She felt exposed, naked under their stares, like a prized pig in the market, ready to be bartered off for the best price.

“Do as I have bid and protect Hyrule,” she said “Lest I seek financial aid from your own coffers.” With that, she swept from the room.

Outside, she leaned against the wall and drew a shaky breath. She knew the subject of marriage would rise, as it had done at the last three meetings. But now they had true cause to push that particular agenda. Now that there was a storm brewing, and Hyrule could not adequately defend itself, she must choose a husband, and soon.

And yet…

Zelda sighed. No. She could not think of it now. She had other matters to attend to.

“Impa,” she said, as she began to walk. In seconds, her aide was beside her.

“Send word to Link. I wish to meet with this stranger after I have dealt with the commons. Have them meet me in the Green Study in the East Wing.”

“As you will,” Impa said, and quickened her stride, overtaking the princess and vanishing through a side door. Zelda kept her own, slow pace, her feet almost dragging on the purple carpets. With each step, the throne room drew closer, and Zelda wanted nothing more than to head back to her chambers and have a nice, long bath, perhaps with a small glass of wine, a punnet of strawberries and fresh cream…

All too soon, she arrived at the throne room. She closed her eyes and straightened her shoulders. Two hours. That was all she would do today.

XXXXXXX

Zelda arrived at the Green Study three and a half hours later, hot and irritable. No matter how she tried to escape, the commons just. Kept. _Complaining_. As if she didn’t have enough to worry about, without concerning herself with farmland boundaries of half a foot, or a cheating wife, or a stolen piglet.

Yet, she had dealt with the problems in the only way a princess could, with decorum, and with a fair hand. She had justly degreed that the half-foot was to be halved again and shared if the two bordering farmers would not agree, that the cheating wife was to be divorced, and the stolen piglet’s worth in rupees be returned to the owner, whilst the thief would be placed in the stocks for a week.

Her brows lowered. And yet more of them came forward, with ridiculous things they could have solved themselves, or just pure nonsense surely designed to waste her time. The hysterical woman ranting about a dragon spotted over Death Mountain did not bode well, but she pushed the matter aside. General Balla had sent out soldiers to investigate, and she would not concern herself with such matters until she had proof in her hands.

She smoothed down her hair and fanned her warm cheeks. Link and the stranger would already be inside. She wished she had a mirror.

Zelda opened the door, the heavy wood dragging on the plush green carpet, as green as the forests to the south. The walls were also green, as was the furniture. Three long sofas sat in the middle of the room, angled to face each other, and on one of them sat Link, Navi at his shoulder, his tunic matching the décor beautifully. He was facing away from her, the beginnings of a smile forming on his lips as he looked to the stranger, Thoria.

She was dressed in a simple skirt and blouse, the colours muted and autumnal. The colours seemed to make her black hair seem even darker, and her eyes were a startling, almost luminous green.

In the split second it took for them to notice her, Zelda wondered if the line of prophecy about the dark fairy had really being about the fae at all.

But Link had seen her. He jumped to his feet and bowed, beckoning for Thoria to do the same. She looked confused for a moment, before noticing the princess with a blink and a smile, before she, too, was on her feet and bowing.

“Curtsey!” Zelda heard Link hiss.

“No!” Thoria hissed back. “It looks stupid.”

“Ladies curtsey,” Link muttered, as Zelda began her slow approach. She smiled at his charming discomfort.

“Be seated,” Zelda said, lowering herself onto the sofa opposite, resisting the urge to sigh as the weight left her feet. Navi left Link’s shoulder and flitted to Zelda’s, settling her small, warm weight just below her earlobe. Link and Thoria took their places at either end of the sofa before her. Link threw a glance at the dark-haired woman, but Thoria was staring, quite unashamedly at Zelda.

The princess turned her full attention on the stranger.

“Thoria, is it? I am glad to see you have recovered well.”

“Thank you, your Majesty,” Thoria replied, her voice soft and strangely accented. Zelda smiled.

“It’s ‘your Highness,’” she said. “Thank you for agreeing to meet with me.”

She watched the other woman closely. All present knew that she had no choice in the matter. Her reaction would speak volumes.

Thoria, simply smiled, her expression one of eager curiosity. After a beat, she said “S’alright.” Link winced.

“You are unfamiliar with our customs, I take it?” Zelda said, graciously. She looked to Link. “What have you been teaching her?”

“Whatever I can, your Highness,” Link replied. He cast another look at the stranger, who returned it with a look of polite befuddlement.

“That is good. If Thoria is to remain with us in Hyrule she should learn the way of things,” Zelda said pleasantly.

“She learns quickly,” Link said. “And reads a lot.”

“And is also sitting right here,” Thoria chimed in. Link balked, but Zelda laughed.

“You speak your mind freely,” she said, as Thoria folded her hands in her lap. “This is refreshing. I understand you have been spending a lot of time in the castle library?”

“Yes, as much time as I can.”

“What do you read?”

“Whatever I can.” Thoria said, with a smile. Link glared, and she added a quick “your Highness.” This time, Zelda’s smile was forced. Her lack of courtesy did not seem deliberate, but it was irritating.

“I am pleased that you are using your time… constructively,” she said, as silence filled the room. “I am sure you will learn all there is to know about Hyrule if you read as quickly as Link says you do.”

Thoria nodded, once. Zelda leaned forward.

“I shall not mince my words. You came to Hyrule through a break in the sky, and Link tells me you have few memories. So, tell me. What do you remember?”

“Very little, in truth,” Thoria said, with a small shrug. Zelda noticed her ankles were crossed under her skirt, like a lady of the court. “I am sure that everything I have told Link, he’s told you, your Maj- your Highness.”

“You are correct,” Zelda said. “But _I_ asked you,” she continued, with the slightest hint of reprimand in her voice. Thoria blinked, and a change came over her face. It was an expression Zelda had seen a precious few times before. It was the delicious moment when a commoner suddenly realised just _who_ it was they were addressing, suddenly felt the power in the room with them, and began to behave accordingly. It was not something she should indulge in, Zelda reminded herself, but after numerous council meetings with fops who did not truly respect her, it was a welcome treat to be reminded of her position.

Thoria began to speak, her eyes focused somewhere to the right of Zelda’s ear.

“All I remember of coming here is being in a white, bright room, and then I was falling,” she said. “I remember waking up, wet, and Link standing over me. Then I woke up in the castle. I don’t know who I am or how I got here, least of all how to get home. That’s all, your Highness,”

“What do you remember of your homeland? Link has said you remember some things.”

“Nothing tangible, your Highness,” Thoria said. “The way the streets looked, the houses. Some snippets of history. Not much.”

“Tell me of this… amnesia you have suffered. Link said you have a special name for it.”

“Selective retrograde amnesia,” Thoria said, instantly. “The loss of certain memories, most often relating to personal aspects of life, typically caused by sudden trauma or injury.”

Zelda nodded, slowly. “Tell me, Thoria. How is it that you know things such as this, but not your own name?”

Thoria shrugged. “I don’t know.”

Zelda waited, but Thoria did not expand on her statement. Link glanced anxiously between the two of them.

“I think Thoria’s telling the truth,” he said. Zelda could indeed detect no hint of a lie from the strange woman before her. She was different, yes, but so were the Gerudo, and the Gorons, and the Zora. She was simply a stranger in a strange land, as Link had said before. But something still rankled her.

“Thoria,” Zelda said. “I would request that you educate yourself on the histories, traditions and culture of Hyrule. As you say, you do not know how you got here, or how to get home. My greatest Sheika are as of now investigating Lake Hylia, where you were found. While they do this, you should learn how to be a part of our land.”

“Okay,” Thoria said.

“We will search for a way to send you back,” Zelda said, feeling in her gut that this was the right thing to do. Sending her home would surely stop the darkness before it arrived. “And in the meantime, integrate yourself. Link will continue to guard you until we have found a way to return you to your lands.”

“What about the prophecy?” Navi whispered in her ear, her voice barely audible over the tiny tinkling of her wings.

“She does not need to know,” Zelda breathed back, her lips barely moving. Link watched them both, his face expressionless, whilst Thoria nodded, a hopeful smile on her lips.

“I don’t know what to say, except thank you,” she said. “You have welcomed me into your land, your home, and have offered me help. I cannot begin to express how much I miss my home, and how much I long to be there. I appreciate it. Your Highness.”

Zelda smiled. “Good. I am sure we can find some sort of work for you to do in the meantime. Link, I will leave that up to you.”

“Yes, your Highness.”

The conversation had naturally drawn to a close. Zelda looked between the two of them again. Link was stoic and quiet, but Zelda knew the set of his shoulders, the way he was balancing his weight on the balls of his feet. He was restless, he wanted to leave. But he would not, not without her word. A cruel and curious part of her wanted to know just how long he would wait, but she knew the answer. He would stay where he was until she gave him his leave, even if it was in two days from now.

He seemed to be on edge. She knew and he knew what was coming later that night. Her heart fluttered nervously. Would he hate her for it? She fought to keep her face impassive. She dreaded to think of the pain he would be in, and wondered if he was thinking of it too, fretting on it like she was. Or was he simply embarrassed by Thoria’s lack of grace? She could not tell from his face.

Thoria, however, was more obvious in her restlessness. She crossed and recrossed her ankles, rubbing her thumb over her other wrist, and glancing about the room. Zelda smiled, and then Thoria turned her eyes on her. In that brief moment, that lasted no longer than half-a-heartbeat, Zelda felt an all-encompassing dread settle into her very bones. It was almost physical in its strength, and she recoiled. But then the moment was gone, and Thoria blinked, gave a slightly goofy, awkward smile, and looked away again. There was nothing but the echo of trepidation, so faint in her mind that Zelda suddenly doubted that it had ever been there in the first place. She rose, perturbed, and the others rose as well.

“You have my leave,” she said, and swept from the room. Navi remained at her shoulder, clinging to her braid as she went.

Zelda said nothing as she headed for her chambers, longing for a hot bath and a strong glass of wine. Navi chattered in her ear, bemoaning the day she had endured, sitting bored in the library whilst Thoria read and Link watched her. Zelda’s mind was elsewhere, running back over and over again to the moment where she touched her eyes to the stranger’s, and with each remembering, she went cold all over.

Reaching her chambers, Zelda kicked off her shoes and stretched. She hoped that, in the stress of running the kingdom, and her fear over the prophecy, that her mind had simply conjured something that wasn’t there. Only time would tell.


	20. 20 - Link

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Archive warnings apply for this chapter.

“That was interesting,” Thoria said as they left the Green Study.

“Interesting?” Link stared at her. “You were lucky Zelda was in a good mood.”

“Why?”

“You completely ignored the common courtesies!” Link threw his hands in the air. “I told you Thoria, you address her as ‘your Highness’ and speak to her like a damn princess!”

“I did my best!” Thoria snapped. “Excuse me that I’ve never spoken to royalty before. I was nervous.”

Link muttered under his breath.

“What’s wrong with you, anyway?” Thoria asked, as they made their way down another corridor. “You’ve been funny all day.”

“Nothing,” Link said. “I’ve just got things on my mind.”

“You wanna talk about it?” Thoria asked.

Link slowed and looked at her. Thoria gazed back at him, her head tilted to the side. After a beat, he shook his head.

“No,” he said. “It’s fine.”

They walked in silence for a minute, before Thoria spoke again.

“What should we do tomorrow? I suppose the princess wants me to do something other than reading books all day.”

“I don’t know,” Link said, his mind elsewhere. It was getting dark outside. Not yet dark enough to light the torches on the walls, but it wouldn’t be long. He surpressed a shiver. There was still time.

“I mean, I love that library, there is so much to read, but… I kinda want to do something else, y’know? Shake things up a bit.” Thoria rubbed her arms. “What do you normally do when you’re not guarding me?”

“Uh, I don’t know. Guard the princess.”

“And during your time off?” Thoria pressed.

“Time off?” Link laughed humourlessly. “What’s that?”

“You know what I mean. What do you do when you’re not ‘on call’?”

“Train,” he said absently.

“Train what?”

“Swordsmanship, archery, things like that. Sometimes show the new guards the ropes.”

“That sounds fun,” Thoria said. Link caught a glimpse of her smile from the corner of his eye. “Let’s do that.”

“Ladies don’t fight,” Link said, without thinking. He jerked back as a fist swung into his field of vision, Thoria appearing in front of him suddenly, a grin on her face, as she jabbed at his face again. Link sidestepped and batted her hands away, skipping to the side as she feinted a kick at his shins.

“Stop,” he said, as she followed, lightly slapping at his arm. She raised an eyebrow and lowered her hands.

“Women do fight,” she said. “That was just playing.”

“And you barely touched me,” Link said. “You have some serious learning to do if you’re going to fight properly.”

Thoria said nothing, but a wide grin split her face. Link found a smile creeping onto his own lips. He shook his head, chuckling.

“Alright, you got me. But not tomorrow. I won’t be able to tomorrow.”

“Why not?” Thoria’s face fell. “I was looking forward to learning something new.”

“Let’s stick to the library for now,” Link said. He glanced out of the passing windows again.

“Fine,” Thoria huffed. “But I’m going to get bored soon. I like a little variety in my life, you know?”

“You could always visit the dungeons,” Link said, drily.

“That would be interesting, I-“ Thoria shot him a look. “Hell no. You’re not gonna bang me up.”

“I’m tempted,” Link said, guessing the meaning of the strange phrase. “I might get a rest from all your questions.”

Thoria blew a raspberry at him in response.

Arriving at her door, Link bade her goodnight. Thoria grinned at him and pulled a silly face as she shut the door, Link smiling good naturedly at her. His smile vanished as the door clicked, and he glanced out of the window again. He swallowed, and chewed a nail, beginning a slow walk down to his rooms. _Remember to breathe,_ he told himself.

His pace was slow enough that Impa caught him before he reached his rooms. She stared down at him impassively, her face mostly hidden by her high collar, her short silver hair and red eyes all that was visible as she towered above him.

“It’s time,” she said, her voice low. Link nodded, and fell into step beside her.

The walk to the courtyard seemed to take all night. With every step, Link’s heart seemed to beat a little faster, his shoulders tensing just a little more with each corner they rounded. His mouth was dry, and he ran his tongue over his lips.

Silently, he berated himself. He should not feel afraid of what was to come. He had faced innumerable foes, had taken on more impossible tasks than any man living, and had endured countless battles and wounds. He had walked into a myriad of temples and dungeons with his head held high. This would be no different. Just because he was deliberately walking into a pain that he had no means of defending himself from, he-

He faltered. Just a half-step, but Impa saw. Her fingers snatched out like a thin, white spider and grasped his bicep. Link shot her a look.

“I’m not going to run,” he said, quietly. “You may release me.”

Impa stared down at him for the time it took to draw two breaths. Slowly, she nodded, and relaxed her grip, though her eyes never left him. She said not a word, and Link kept his own silence as well.

After an age, they reached the courtyard. In the centre, a small wooden platform had been erected, with a tall pole in the centre. Princess Zelda stood to the side, next to a burly man in a black hood. Even King Rhoam had left his chambers, wrapped in a thick fur cloak and seated in a chair. Navi was nowhere to be seen, and Link was glad. She should not have to see this, it would pain her greatly. The courtyard was otherwise blessedly empty, no commons to be seen, but a couple of guards stood to attention nearby, and Link winced. The royals he could cope with, but to be whipped before his brothers in arms…

He took a slow breath. It was blessing enough that so few were there to see. He did not need Impa’s palm at his back to walk forward and face the princess and her hooded counterpart.

“Ser Link,” she addressed him. He inclined his head, holding himself stiffly in the cooling air. “You know why you are here.” Her voice was clear, but her eyes were sad.

“You are charged,” came King Rhoam’s voice. “With direct disobedience of an order given to you by your King. You will be whipped five times singularly across the back.”

Link said nothing. As the hooded man stepped onto the platform, Zelda leaned in to him.

“You can wear your tunic,” she whispered. “I made sure of it. It will lessen some of the pain.”

“Thank you,” Link said, and pulled the tunic over his head. The tunic was ancient, and though the material seemed as good as new, he did not want to risk damaging it any more than he had to. And he deserved this for disobeying his orders. Zelda’s eyes widened as he bared his torso to the summer air. He folded the tunic and mail carefully, removing his hat and placing it atop the tunic, laying the clothing carefully on the edge of the platform. He breathed.

He stepped onto the platform and approached the hooded man, who held up a short length of rope.

“I’m to tie your hands to the pole,” he explained, in a voice softer and lighter than Link had expected. “In case you faint.”

“I won’t,” Link said, “I do not need to be tied.” He eyed the rope warily. Of all the things that would send the pieces of his mind scattering into animalistic terror, that would be it. He felt the icy ghost of iron clasped around his wrists, and he bared his teeth.

“Fine, no rope,” the hooded man said, backing away, his eyes wide through the holes in the hood. Link forced the memory away and approached the pole, raising his arms and gripping the iron ring at the top tightly. He breathed. He adjusted his stance, placing his feet far enough apart that he wouldn’t stumble. _Focus._

The hooded man offered him a small chunk of wood wrapped in leather, and Link allowed him to fit it between his teeth. He could feel the eyes on him, and wondered briefly how badly he would scar. His heart was loud in his ears, and he concentrated on it, trying to drown out the whispering voices that came from below and behind. He felt his ribs expand and contract as he breathed. Faster than he would like. He had to focus. He tightened the corners of his mind and lowered himself into something other than himself. He shut out his pounding heart. He ignored his fluttering pulse. He paid no mind to the sweat that beaded his brow, that gathered between his shoulder blades.

He heard the whip thud lightly as the end uncoiled and hit the ground. There was a whisper, and a sharp _crack_ as it was tested in the air. _Focus. Breathe._

Everything seemed to look sharper in the flickering light of the braziers. The grain of the wood was smooth at first glance, but Link could count the innumerable tiny grooves and spots in the pole before him. The lines of the flagstones were almost razor sharp and the colours around him seemed to be brighter and more clearly defined, as though painted. He swore he could hear the distant sounds of laughter, faint on the air. Perhaps from a tavern.

Behind him, he could hear their breathing. Impa’s was almost imperceptible, a leaf caught in a high wind. Rhoam’s was laboured, the tiniest rattle audible on the exhale. Zelda’s trembled. The whipper’s loud. His own was silent to him. He could only feel his ribs move as-

_CRACK_

The first lash caught him off guard and he stumbled against the pole with a grunt, his shoulders bunching against the line of fire that licked across his back. He hissed around the bit in his mouth, eyes squeezed shut. How many whippings had he seen here in this courtyard? Eight, nine separate times? How long had the punisher waited in between each lash, to allow the body time to adjust to the pai-

_CRACK_

The second lash scored a line of hurt from the opposite side this time, a razor dragged through his skin, and Link snarled around the leather and wood in his mouth, eyes open and glaring at the pole in front of him. He would not fall. He would not fall. The others fell after the third, held up by the rope around their wrists. He had no rope. They had screamed. He would not scream.

He heard the next lash coming over the murmur of voices in the courtyard, a faint whistle on the air that connected with a _CRACK_ and sent searing iron skidding along his ribs. Dimly, he heard Zelda cry out, and wondered if she felt what he was feeling. He hoped not.

The next lash seemed dull in comparison to the others, as though the whipper had had enough, and was tired, letting him off easy. The man’s muted curse told him otherwise, and he braced himself for the final-

_CRACK_

The whip carved a deep line of agony across his back, and Link knew from the voices around him that this one was different. His head snapped back, and he groaned through the bit. The skin on his back felt loose somehow, and he lowered his head to rest on his forearms. Fresh blood spotted the wooden planks beneath him as his back stung, the light breeze driving thousands of needles into the raw, open wounds. He breathed. The voices were talking. There were too many of them. Why were there so many voices?

The hooded man approached, tucking one hand under his elbow, until he found his feet again. Gingerly, he loosened his white-knuckle grip on the iron ring, and stood unaided. He waited. He wanted them to see. Let Zelda and Rhoam see what they had done to him. Fat chance he could save Hyrule like this, if the damage was as bad as it felt. His back burned and throbbed, each pulse sending a wave of dizziness through him. Slowly, he turned and the ground lurched with his stomach him as he saw the group of noblemen and women who had gathered while his back was turned.

Each of them eyed him with thinly veiled satisfaction. Through the haze of pain, their conceited, haughty smirks were obvious as a tear through a painting. Link felt the old anger rise within him, and he had the sudden urge to fall upon them in a howling, slashing fury like the monsters he so often fought. But he didn’t. Instead, he held his head high and stepped gingerly down from the platform, carefully avoiding Zelda’s horror-struck eyes, her fingers pressed trembling to her mouth.

He had not fallen. He had not screamed. He had not cried like a child. He slowly, gently bent to collect his tunic, his back howling in protest, each movement pulling against the slices in his skin. He could feel cooling lines of blood running in rivulets along his spine. He did not want to know the damage.

“You’ll be getting to the doctor now,” the hooded man said. Wordlessly, Link nodded, and moved tentatively towards the castle. At a signal from Zelda, Impa was by his side, half a step away to catch him if he fell. Link squared his shoulders. He would not fall. _He would not fall_. The ground may be spinning but he would not fall. Not in front of them. Not in front of those who saw him as only a common, pauper farm boy. Not in front of those who smirked behind their hands as he passed, and sniggered as he gave an order.

Shame welled up inside him. Their assumptions had been proven tonight. He had failed in his duty to the princess. He _was_ just a farmer playing at being a hero. They _knew_ he was going to fail and here was their proof. He bared his teeth as his wounds throbbed again, a white-hot flash of pain. He blinked away the tears. They would not see him cry. No one would _ever_ have that privilege. Not even Navi.

He was through the arch now, back inside the castle. What would the servants think? Did it even matter any more? The world was spinning worse than ever, and Link concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other. There was a steady pattern of red droplets following him, the dots on the flagstone stuttering and stumbling as he fought to keep his balance. Spinning. Spinning. He would not fall. He would not fall. He would not-

Blackness and a rushing weightlessness came tearing to meet him in the cold stone hallway.


	21. 21 - Navi

The golden hand on the timepiece crawled by. The slender, curled filigree design patterning the metal before the round, white face, matching the exquisitely carved numerals. Navi watched it, twisting the hem of her shift between her fingers. Hours had passed since Zelda had left for the courtyard, leaving Navi alone in her luxurious chambers to fret.

She had wrestled with the idea of going down there too, despite Zelda’s caution. She should be there to support Link in his time of need, to be there when he was lashed so that she could soothe him with her words, to hold his hand, to distract him from the pain. She shivered. She had seen what happened to those who were whipped. Those that survived were left with a mass of messy, ropey scars. That is, if they didn’t get infected. She shivered as she envisioned the yellowy, puckered wounds, weeping pus and stinking of rot.

Restless, Navi began to pace on the mantelpiece. She should have been there. It was her duty as Link’s partner. But leaden guilt sat in her stomach, stopping her from flying out of the window. No matter how she tried to tell herself that it was his own silly fault for rescuing the stranger, his foolish action leading him to this turn of events, she still felt somewhat responsible. And she could not face him.

So, she waited. And waited. And waited some more. Her anxiety began to bleed away as the hours crawled by, and was replaced, inch by creeping inch, by irritation.

Why hadn’t he come to collect her? Why hadn’t Zelda returned to tell her that all was fine? She must know that Navi would be worrying, stuck here with no word. She fluttered her wings and grumbled to herself. The timepiece showed two hours past midnight. In another three, the sun would be appearing over the horizon, washing the darkness away with gold. Three hours would not be enough sleep for her. She must rest, but she could not until she knew Link was alright!

She clenched her tiny fists. Guilt or no guilt, she had to know.

Navi flew to the grand door and concentrated. Using her magic to sink invisible tendrils into the wood, she heaved open the heavy door just far enough to slip through. Shaking off the wave of tiredness that seeped under her skin, she flew along the corridor and down the narrow stairs, beating her silken wings as hard as she could.

No one walked the corridors she flew down. The castle was as still and silent as a gravestone.

Exhausted by her flight and extensive magic, Navi reached the ground floor, sweeping to the left. The doctor’s quarters were there. Link must be there as well. A light was shining underneath the door, broken only by the shadows of footsteps. As she approached, the door opened.

Navi had just time to glimpse a figure swathed in bandages on the examining bed before Zelda appeared, obscuring her view.

“Navi?” Zelda said, closing the door behind her. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to see him!” she squeaked. “Is he alright?”

As always, Zelda maintained her elegant composure, but her eyes betrayed her thoughts.

“He will be fine,” she said. “He needs to rest now.” She began to walk back towards the stairs, beckoning the fairy. Navi hesitated, staring at the door. Zelda coughed, delicately, and Navi reluctantly flew to her shoulder, settling down and grasping the princess’s braid for support. She let out a small breath as she stilled her wings.

“Tell me,” Navi said, as Zelda began to climb.

“He was… very brave,” Zelda said, as if she thought Link could have been anything else. “He barely made a sound, even though…”

“What? Is something wrong?”

“The… judiciary was a little overzealous on the last strike,” Zelda said, her voice low. “Link has lost a fair amount of blood.”

Navi covered her mouth. “Will he be alright?”

“I believe so.”

“That man should be punished!” Navi stated. “He could have seriously hurt Link!”

“He did hurt him,” Zelda said, her voice soft. “That was the point of the punishment. Though I agree it was too much, there is little I can do to compensate.” Her mouth formed a hard line. “I had to fight with my father in order for the doctor to administer a healing potion. Usually such things are not allowed following corporal punishment. But the damage was… excessive.”

Zelda passed by a torch bracket, and Navi saw the bags under her eyes, thrown into sharp relief. Her eyes themselves were red, as though she had been crying. Navi shuddered. If Link was not allowed to have extra healing measures, he would scar terribly. She could not imagine what that would be like, for his beautiful back to be so marred by the ugly blemishes she had seen on prisoners before. And if the damage was as bad as Zelda seemed to be suggesting… would he even be crippled?

“Thankfully, Father relented,” Zelda said, and Navi almost sobbed with relief. “He has been administered enough to mostly heal, though he will still be tender for a time. You must make sure he does not do anything strenuous.”

“Of course I will,” Navi said. “I’ll make sure he keeps to his bed, I’ll bring him food and drink and whatever else he wants!”

Zelda’s smile was tight. “He must resume his duties in the morning,” she said. “He will continue guarding Thoria by my father’s command. As much as I wish he could be allowed to rest, I do not think it wise to test the king’s patience any more than I have tonight.”

“Well, he doesn’t know how special Link is,” Navi said, hotly. “Or how lucky he is to have him.”

“Hush,” Zelda said, glancing over her shoulder. “My father is well aware of how valuable our Hero is. However, he will not allow anyone, not even I, to disobey him so wantonly.”

Navi bit back her next words. How it wasn’t really Link’s fault. Not completely. But what sort of punishment would she endure if it came out that… no. She wouldn’t even entertain the idea.

Zelda climbed the narrow staircase, leaning heavily on the bannister.

“Are you well, princess?” Navi asked.

“I am just tired,” she replied. “It has been a long and troubling day.”

“Yes,” Navi agreed. “I was going out of my mind in there. Just waiting. No one ever tells you that waiting is the worst thing in the world.”

“How very true,” Zelda said. “Nobody ever tells you, but I would wager that everybody would agree with you, if you said it.”

“Of course they would, I know what I’m talking about,” Navi said, allowing herself a smile. They reached the princess’s chambers. “Zelda, can I sleep in here with you tonight? I don’t want to disturb Link’s rest, and it’s lonely in his room without him.”

“Of course,” Zelda said. “I would be glad of your company tonight. I am meeting with one of my suitors tomorrow, and I would feel better if I slept with a friend by my side.”

Inside, Zelda lit the lamps herself whilst Navi fluttered off her shoulder and towards the bedroom. She settled on one of the numerous pillows as Zelda followed her in, carrying herself gingerly. Navi watched as she kicked off her flat shoes and unlaced her own dress, the material falling from her shoulders to crumple on the floor. In her underskirt, Zelda sat at her vanity and placed her tiara on its stand, before she undid her two braids, brushing out her honey coloured hair with long, deft strokes. Rising, she shed her underskirt as well and padded naked to the bed.

Navi pretended to be asleep, curled on the pillow, but she watched the princess carefully through her lashes. Zelda had a slender figure, almost bordering on thin, with small, delicate breasts and narrow, elegant hips. There was a birthmark on the inside of her left hip, just above where her hair began to grow. Her figure was almost fae-like, slim and graceful. If anyone were to be a partner for her Hero, Zelda would be the best choice, Navi thought, as sleep began to blanket her. He deserved the very best, after all.

Though really, if she could find the right magics, the absolute _best_ choice in all of Hyrule would be his everlasting companion, his unwavering friend, his true soulmate who had been with him for longer than any mortal in the world.


	22. 22 - Link

“Wake up. Ser Link. Arise. Arise this instant. Ser Link.”

Link mumbled something unintelligible. His eyes felt as though they were glued shut, and sleep had him firmly in its grasp. Sleep, elusive sleep, at last he was here. The tantalising, tempting promise of nothing but sweet blackness called to him, welcoming him back to where he was safe from his waking life. He was half an inch from slipping back into heavenly slumber, but there was a voice. And it would not shut up.

“Ser Link. This is unbecoming of you. You must arise this instant.”

Link was numb all over. He knew he was lying down, but he could feel nothing else. He did not know if he was in bed, on the ground, covered or clothed. And he did not care. He wanted to sleep. He _needed_ to sleep.

“Five more minutes,” he slurred.

“Get. UP.” The voice came again, and this time, it was accompanied by a small electric shock applied to his arm, that cut through the numbness, wrenched his eyes open and snapped him into a sitting position with a yelp.

Blearily, he tried to rub his eyes and succeeded only in bumping his hands into his cheek. Before him stood the Zora doctor, arms folded over his uniform and a distinctly unimpressed expression on his face. In one hand he held a small, metal shock-rod. He towered over Link, wrapped in blankets and bandages on the examining bed.

The events of the night before came flooding back. The crack of the whip and the molten steel that carved his back like a suckling joint. The blood. The looseness of his skin. The floor rushing up to meet him as he fainted.

“How am I?” Link asked, as the doctor eyed him aloofly. “My back. Am I healed?”

“Your back?” the doctor asked, puzzlement crossing his features. “Ser Link, I was not assigned to you to tend to your back.” He began to fuss with the blankets, smoothing them down.

“What do you mean?” Link asked. He tried to flex his fingers. He could feel very little below his shoulders. “I was whipped. I was to be brought here.”

“Oh no,” the doctor said, matter-of-factly. “I mean yes, your back was quite a state, but I was informed in great confidence that you had requested another operation in addition, one to remove undesired appendages.” He looked up at Link, his shark eyes serious. “I am pleased to say that your gender-reassignment was a success, Ser Link. Or would you prefer Lady Link now?”

“ _What_?!” Link yelped, scrabbling at the blankets. With his numb hands and feet, he only succeeded in entangling himself further. He kicked hard and, in his panic, almost rolled off the bed, were it not for the strong arm of the Zora holding him upright. Panting, his breath coming in short, high-pitched gasps, Link succeeded in yanking back the covers.

His torso was covered in bandages from his hips to his armpits, but below his waist…

Link gaped up at the Zora, his mouth falling open. The doctor had a wicked grin on his face. Link looked down again. He was intact, his cock lying innocently against his leg above his balls.

“You _bastard,_ ” Link said, weakly.

“Consider that jape payback for my headache,” the doctor said, his smile still broad. He handed Link a small vial of potion.

“Drink this. It will cease the numbing effect. You will be in pain for a time. I have healed you, but not completely. There is a chance you may scar, but with proper care, you should be back to your normal self within the week.”

Link took the potion with muted thanks as the doctor turned to gather up his clothes. He threw back the potion in one gulp and it took effect immediately, spreading feeling along his limbs. His back began to ache and throb, five separate lines of heat striping across his skin. Link winced, but could not help but slide his hand under the sheets to check that he really was all there. He was.

“Get dressed,” the doctor said, handing over his tunic. “The princess has decreed that you are to resume your escorting duties immediately.” He stepped back and turned around, allowing Link some privacy as he struggled into his clothes.

“If you find the pain to be too great, or the wounds reopen, see me immediately,” the doctor said. “Remember, by the nature of your… injuries, and how you sustained them, you are not to heal yourself by anything other than natural means.”

“I know,” Link said. “Thank you.”

The old Zora nodded once and waved him away.

Link limped into the hall, glancing from side to side. The long corridor was empty, and the castle was quiet. By the dim light shining through the windows, he judged the time to be a mere hour after dawn.

He winced as his back throbbed, and he moved carefully towards the staircase, holding himself upright. At the top of the stairs, he gingerly twisted to each side, grimacing as the movement tugged his wounds. He sighed. He would have to be careful for the next few days.

Link took a slow walk towards Thoria’s chambers, passing no one on his route. In his mind, he replayed the previous night over and over. His memory was as sharp as broken glass up until he had fainted, followed by hazy images and muted sounds. Vaguely, he remembered someone holding his hand as someone else poured a burning liquid across his shoulders.

He glared at the floor, the carpet plush under his feet. If only he had listened to his conscience, and done as he was bid. He could have visited Ordon at any time, so why did he choose to go when the king himself had ordered him to guard Thoria? Why, out of all the choices he could have made, did he choose one that caused him to shirk his duties, to act in a manner unbecoming of the Hero of Twilight, of the Chosen Knight of the Princess?

He knew why. He missed them, his friends. His family. Those whom he had grown with. Colin, Talo, Malo. Beth. Bo, Jaggle, Fado.

Ilia.

Link squeezed his eyes shut as he remembered her face as he clawed away from her in the darkened treehouse. Her eyes, wide and scared in the dark, her fingers covering her mouth. Her face a mask of confusion and hurt. He had wanted to see her. He had wanted to make things right. But she was no longer there.

Link found himself outside Thoria’s door sooner than he expected. The sun was barely in the sky, and he wondered briefly if she would be awake at this hour. He raised his hand to knock, and the door opened, revealing Thoria, bright-eyed and smiling.

“You took your time,” she said, coming out into the corridor and allowing the door to swing closed behind her. Her smile faltered as she looked at him. “You okay?”

Link nodded. “Fine.”

“You look done in,” Thoria said, tilting her head. Her brow creased. “Bad night’s sleep?”

“I’m fine,” Link said. He gestured, and they began to walk together.

“You’re holding your shoulders funny,” Thoria said. “If they hurt, I think I can sort them-“

“I said, I’m _fine_ ,” Link growled.

Thoria stopped talking. Link strode beside her, his pace swift. They passed along the corridor and down the stairs. As they walked the next corridor, Link slowed slightly, glancing at the stranger out of the corner of his eye. The woman was staring ahead, her eyes fixed on a point beyond them. Her face was expressionless, but her very being exuded hurt.

Link sighed.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s been a rough night.”

“S’alright,” Thoria said, her voice even. “We all have bad days.”

Link twisted his mouth. “How did you sleep?”

“Better than I thought I would,” Thoria replied, her tone still cool. “I used to have trouble sleeping. I remember that. I expect I slept well because the bed is so insanely comfortable.”

“They are here,” Link said. “It took some getting used to.”

Thoria spared him a glance that softened as he met her eyes. “You weren’t born here?”

Link laughed bitterly. “No. I don’t know where I was born. But I grew up in Ordon, a village some leagues from here. I used to herd goats.”

Thoria offered the smallest of smiles. “I find myself struggling to imagine that.”

“Most do,” Link said.

“Did you enjoy it?”

“At the time,” Link admitted. “Though I wanted more, as I imagine every boy of sixteen does. If I knew-“ He stopped. Thoria wouldn’t want to hear his opinion on the matter.

“You were sixteen when you became a hero?” Thoria asked. Link kept his face neutral.

“Yes.”

“That’s young,” Thoria said. “It must have been difficult.”

A thousand pictures flashed in his mind. The forest temple and the psychotic monkey, the gigantic, carnivorous plant. The raging monster in Death Mountain, wreathed in flames. The suffocating depths of Lake Hylia and the colossal eel writing at the bottom. The stalchildren, the ghosts, the Twilight beasts. The terror, the darkness, the pain, the twilight, Death Sword, the invisible rats, Ganondorf.

“Not really,” Link said. “I had no choice. My friends were kidnapped in front of me, and I tried to save them. I had to.”

“Didn’t the adults do anything?” Thoria asked.

“I ran after King Bulblin immediately,” Link said. “There was no time to go for help.”

Thoria nodded as they began to descend the final set of stairs. “You’re brave.”

“So I’m told,” Link said. He pulled a smile onto his face. “But it’s okay. My friends are safe now, and so is Hyrule.”

“Good,” Thoria replied.

They entered the Great Hall, the soft sounds of cutlery and murmured voices reaching their ears over the muddled scents of bacon and toast and smoked fish. As before, the nobility turned one by one to stare at Thoria, their gaze at once indifferent and curious. But to Link’s trained eye, he picked out colder, sharper stares from some of the nobility. General Balla, Lady Cassandra, and some others that he couldn’t be bothered to learn the names of. Their eyes were fixed on the pair of them, and his back tingled. He cast an uneasy look Thoria’s way, concerned she would be rude.

But this time, Thoria ignored them completely, allowing Link to lead her to the table in the corner. He deliberately avoided the noble stares, but he felt them latch onto him, their eyes fixed on his back. Their muted voices sent waves of prickling anger over his skin. He knew they were muttering about him. And his failure.

As a serving girl poured sweet tea for them, Link watched Thoria carefully to distract himself. Her eyes were distant and sad.

“Penny for your thoughts?” he said. Thoria blinked, and smiled gently.

“I just miss home,” she said. “It’s nice here, but it doesn’t feel like I belong. Makes me feel a bit shitty.”

Link nodded. It was a feeling he knew only too well. He twisted to tuck his chair under the table and gasped as a wave of fire rushed over his back.

“What is it?” Thoria asked, starting half out of her chair. Link shook his head and forced a smile through gritted teeth.

“Just an old ache,” he said. “Nothing to worry about.”

Thoria arched her eyebrow again, her expression decidedly unconvinced. Link hurriedly changed the subject.

“How do you do that?” he asked.

“Do what?” Thoria asked, her other brow joining the first in rising up her forehead.

“Move just one eyebrow,” Link said. “I can’t do it. I’ve never seen anyone else do it, either.”

Thoria thought for a moment, her brows lowering. They were very animated, Link thought.

“I haven’t the foggiest,” Thoria said. “I’ve never thought about it.”

The serving girl returned with plates of steaming bacon and eggs, accompanied by golden brown potato slices and bowls of fresh berries and cream. Thoria smiled at the girl and thanked her, Link hastening to do the same. For a while, the only sound between the pair was that of eating.

As Thoria pushed away her empty bowl to attack her bacon, the door to the Great Hall opened, and Princess Zelda entered, Navi at her shoulder. As one, chairs scraped back in a great cacophony as the attending nobility rose. Link nudged Thoria and they rose together, watching the princess glide across the hall to the grand table, shadowed by Impa. King Rhoam was nowhere to be seen.

As Zelda seated herself, the rest of the hall followed suit, and Navi disentangled herself from the royal braid and flew to Link. He did not miss the dark look the fairy threw to Thoria as she approached. Thoria watched the fairy approach with fascination.

“Are you alright?” Navi squeaked as she arrived. She landed on the table and grasped Link’s finger in her hands. “Zelda told me what happened, I-“

“I’m fine,” Link said, shooting a meaningful look at the fairy. “How’re you?”

Navi blinked. “I’m okay,” she said. “Just worried about you.”

“No need,” Link said. “I’ve never felt better.”

He failed to even convince himself. The look Navi gave him was mirrored by Thoria, a quiet disbelief. But where Thoria shrugged and returned to her breakfast, curiously watching the fairy out of the corner of her eye, Navi pressed on, pulling herself onto his hand to walk along his arm.

“I understand if you won’t say in front of _her_ ,” Navi said, in a stage whisper. “But it’s alright. You can tell me. How is your back?”

“Better than I deserve,” Link replied, his voice low. Thoria began to whistle tunelessly. “I am fine. I just need to take it easy for a while.”

“You should have listened to me,” Navi said.

“I did,” Link replied, and Navi’s cheeks flushed almost maroon.

“Not my fault,” she said, folding her arms. She fluttered off his forearm and helped herself to a crispy bit of bacon he had been saving for last. She crunched it, and sighed happily.

“What are you doing today?”

“Not sure,” Link replied, glancing at Thoria, who was purposely gazing out of the window. “Thoria?”

“Hm?”

“Is there anything you want to do?”

“Library,” she said, after a beat. Her eyes flickered to his back, and Link set his jaw.

“I thought you wanted to go to the training yard,” he said. Thoria picked up her tea and sipped.

“If you like. It would be interesting.”

“No!” Navi squealed. “Not with your back!”

“There’s nothing wrong with my back,” Link said, gruffly. He picked up his fork and shovelled as much food as he could into his mouth, earning himself a disapproving look from the nobles at the next table. He decided he didn’t care.

“Come on,” he said, rising. Thoria glanced at her plate, still half full of scrambled egg and bacon. She looked from Link, his cheeks bulging, to the sneering nobles at the next table. She picked up a handful of egg, a handful of bacon, and crammed it into her mouth.

“Okay,” she said, her voice muffled. She rose, bacon protruding from the corner of her lips. One of the nobles, Lady Something-or-Other, gave an outraged gasp.

“Well, I never!”

Thoria grinned, egg stuck between her teeth, and spun around, leading the way out of the Hall.


	23. 23 - Zelda

The brush made soft rushing sounds as it ran through Zelda’s hair, the bristles fine and soothing on her scalp. She sat before her mirror, eyes closed, Impa behind her, her motions methodological and sure. She felt her hair part, the larger section pulled to the back as two long tresses were moved to frame her face. Deftly, Impa sectioned her hair and plaited her frames into two braids, before drawing them around the sides of her head and weaving the rest of her hair into them. A warm hand on her shoulder told her it was done.

Zelda opened her eyes, tilting her head this way and that. Her hair was an intricate crown, bunched into a smooth, elegant bun at the back, with exquisite weaving patterns framing her hairline, rising in graceful curves all around, like a stream in spring. Delicately, Impa plucked a small, pink daffodil from the vase and threaded it just behind her ear. The delicate colour complimented the light rouge on her cheeks.

Zelda nodded, and allowed Impa to spray her throat with a perfume made of spring blossoms. She rose and slipped on her heeled shoes, covering her feet with the hem of her regal gown. It was a simple thing, but in its simplicity was its obvious message. She was so much more than her appearance. The sash of royal purple at her waist matched the day cloak Impa fastened to her shoulders, and as a last touch, clipped an elegant golden chain about her throat. Zelda took one last look at herself in the mirror. She looked every image of a princess in that moment.

She arranged her face into an expression of regal impassivity, and led the way out of her chambers. She passed guards and nobles and servants as she descended through the castle, each bowing and curtseying in their turn. Murmurs of “Princess,” and “your Highness” reached her ears, and she acknowledged each with a minute nod. The weather outside the castle walls was warm and bright, but low clouds gathered on the horizon. Zelda willed them to hurry forth.

Zelda opted to take the narrower corridors on the ground floor that would lead her to the gardens without being seen by the majority of her court. The hem of her dress whispered on the cold stone as she went, her hands resting gently atop one another in front of her stomach.

The gardens were bright and airy, the flowerbeds practically spilling onto the path in their abundance. Heady scents of hollyhock, candytuft and hyssop filled the air, and Zelda made her careful way to the stone rise that overlooked the sprawling garden. Leaning on the white marble railing was Lord Dool, his footmen and personal guard standing a respectful distance away.

As she approached, Lord Dool turned, and Zelda saw him full for the first time. He was taller than she had expected, and surprisingly handsome, with a neatly trimmed, salt-and-pepper beard and dark eyes. When he smiled at her, she saw a wink of gold between his lips, and took note of a pale scar on his jaw, that peered out above his beard and ended just below his cheekbone. His clothes were gaudy, fine silks and satins, and his shoulders were broad. He appeared younger than a man in the middle of his fourth decade.

“Your royal highness,” Lord Dool said, his voice soft in the morning air. He produced a bouquet of yellow roses, the same yellow as the sash at his waist, and offered them to her. “I am humbled and honoured by your presence.”

“Lord Dool,” Zelda replied, accepting the roses and admiring them. “I thank you for agreeing to meet with me.”

“The pleasure belongs to me,” Lord Dool replied, his mouth curling into a lazy smile. His eyes slid away from her face to rove over her figure in a most brazen way. His gaze lingered for a moment behind the roses as she held them before her chest, and Zelda felt a flush creep up her neck.

“Let us walk together, my princess,” Lord Dool said, offering his arm. Zelda took it with some reluctance, noting that his arm was not muscled as his clothing would have her believe, but rather wiry under all the padding. Briefly, she wondered how hot he must be under all that stuffing, and she set the pace at a brisk walk, passing the roses to Impa.

“You must have heard a great many of my exploits, in order to wish to meet with me,” Lord Dool said as they descended the marble steps and began their walk around the gardens. “Many a woman has sought me out after hearing of my achievements. Ah, I have broken many a heart, my dear, but I vowed there was only one woman for me.”

 _My dear?_ Zelda thought. She opened her mouth to respond, but Lord Dool was still talking.

“I wonder what it is that drew you to me? Was it my daring rescue of the Lady Hillia? When I stormed the Zora stronghold with only a few men at my back? Or was it when I singlehandedly slew the troublesome Mage of the Black Gate?” he slowed his pace, forcing Zelda to reduce her own stride to an uncomfortable crawl. “Perhaps it was when I fought off a band of invading Moblins?”

“How long ago was the latter?” Zelda asked, quickly as Lord Dool drew breath. “I had not heard of that particular exploit of yours.” All the others, or so she had heard, were uncomfortably true.

“Ah, it was barely a fortnight ago, your Highness,” Lord Dool said, patting her hand and smiling down at her. “I am not surprised you did not hear, I have tried to keep my involvement in the battle nice and quiet.”

“Do tell,” Zelda said, her curiosity piqued.

Lord Dool’s smile broadened, and he stroked her hand as he walked. Zelda fought not to recoil from his grasp. The brisk walk had taken its toll, and his hands were moist, his skin dragging across her glove.

“Such a simple thing, I watched the Moblin horde approach, and sprung a simple, yet effective trap of my own design,” he said. “A series of platforms, hidden in the grass, that flung a body into the air when stepped upon. When the Moblins were lying stunned on the ground, it was a trifling thing to slay them.”

“I see,” Zelda said. “Tell me, did you see the Hero of Twilight when you were commencing your spectacular plan?”

Lord Dool waved his hand carelessly. “I have never had the pleasure of meeting the man. Though I have heard tell that he is short, and has grown rather fat since his singular victory in battle against Lord Ganondorf.”

Zelda stopped in her tracks, her hand slipping off Lord Dool’s arm. He tripped a few steps forward, alone, and turned back to look at her, a frown knitting his brow.

“The Hero of Time is my Chosen Knight,” Zelda said pleasantly. “You have been misinformed, my Lord. He is as strong and brave as ever he was. And his _singular_ victory saved the entirety of my kingdom. Before all his other feats, of course.”

Lord Dool continued to frown, an ugly shape on his mouth. He strode to her side and picked up her hand, clamping it between his arm and his side.

“It is unwise to belittle me so,” he said, his voice carrying the barest hint of a threat.

“And it is unwise to lie to me,” Zelda replied. “My sources tell me that the battle was won differently.” She glanced behind her. Impa, Dool’s footmen and his guard were trailing them a respectful distance. It was further away than she liked. Though Impa could spring a clear six metres through the air to be by her side, Zelda suddenly felt very small.

Lord Dool snorted and turned, pulling Zelda along a shaded path. The carefully planted monkshood grew at the feet of several young trees, whose boughs grew close enough together to shield them from the sun, dappled light breaking through the canopy to pattern the smooth stone with an ever-changing design. The long path led through the trees to a stone tunnel, which in turn led to the Glade of Hylia, a sacred, peaceful place.

“I do not lie, princess,” Dool said. He was glaring straight ahead. “I would make you a wonderful husband.” He looked down at her and smiled, his golden tooth winking. To Zelda, the smile was predatory, and his eyes strayed once again to caress her narrow hips and small breasts. She smiled coldly in return.

“Your exploits aside, I find myself wondering what you can offer the kingdom,” she said. Dool’s smile did not waver.

“I am the wealthiest man in Hyrule, aside from your father,” he said. “I can offer you security in these… troubling times. I would imagine that the treasury has been… somewhat bare since the restoration of the kingdom began.”

He turned to stare ahead, a smug smile on his face. Zelda did not miss his eyes nip to the side to catch her reaction. She kept her face impassive, though within, her stomach dropped. If Dool knew about the state of her coffers, who else knew? And _how_ did he know?

“I am able to muster a force strong enough to rival Hyrule’s own royal army,” Dool continued. “I have proven myself again and again in tactics, and in battle. And I have been established to be an excellent husband.” He slowed, and faced the princess, taking both her hands in his own.

“You must know I was widowed not one year ago,” he said, staring deeply into her eyes. “I blessed my wife with seven strong sons, all of whom perished through various means over the years. Battle, foolishness, even a poor choice of wife has meant I no longer have a child to call my own.”

“I am sorry for your loss, my Lord,” Zelda said. Dool was very close, hovering half a foot above her. He smiled.

“Fortune has smiled upon me,” he said. “For now, I find myself in the presence of Hyrule’s most beautiful woman, the princess of all the kingdom, the descendant of the goddess, offering herself to me. I can make more sons with you when I sit the throne, strong sons to secure our legacy throughout the ages.”

Zelda gazed up at Dool as he stroked the backs of her hands with his thumbs.

“I do not offer myself,” she said, calmly. Dool’s eyes flashed, but Zelda stood firm. “I am sure you are aware that there are a great many men competing for my hand. It would be most unfair if I did not meet with all first, before I decide who would become my husband.”

“You need not meet with the others,” Dool said, his voice low and soothing, his tone one that a parent would use towards a difficult toddler on the verge of a tantrum. “I am the superior choice, my seed is strong. I have no more sons to contend with ours when he is born.” Dool reached out a hand and _patted Zelda’s belly._ She felt, rather than heard, Impa draw her knives, but she did not move.

“Lord Dool, I will make my choice once I have given fair judgement to all those who seek my hand,” she said.

“I am sure I can convince you,” he said, leaning forward. His lips came within an inch of her own before Zelda placed her hand on his chest, stepping back in one smart movement.

“You have convinced me well of your assets,” she said, carefully. “It would be unbecoming of me to throw myself into your arms. I must consider the political implications of a union between us.”

Dool pursed his lips, his throat glowing red. Zelda glanced away, her gaze travelling the trees, the stone path, and back up his body to his face. She felt her cheeks flush as she noticed his very obvious arousal. She took a careful step back.

“Of course,” he said. “Such things are not to be rushed.”

“My Lord, I have a great many things to attend to. Please be assured that you will hear from me presently.”

“I would hope that it is with a proposal,” Dool remarked, as Zelda made her way towards Impa. “It would be the wisest choice you could make, Princess. Considering your past decisions, perhaps you would be best suited to a man with a successful tactical history.”

Zelda did not spare the lord a glance. As Impa fell into step beside her, she controlled her breathing. She maintained her composure all the way through the gardens and castle, until she reached her chambers. Inside, she ripped the purple sash from her waist and kicked the heels from her aching feet.

“What a _disgusting_ man,” she exploded, striding to her bedroom, fumbling with the fastenings of her cloak. Impa followed and dutifully helped her remove the garment.

“He was improper,” Impa said. “He held no respect for you, only for himself.”

“I could have his head,” Zelda steamed. “Touching me like some tavern wench!”

“He is used to tavern wenches,” Impa said, drily. “He claims a man has certain needs. But I would advise against beheading someone who is both a valuable ally and a man with vengeful friends.”

Zelda threw herself onto her bed, burying her face in the soft blankets.

“I do not know what to do,” she said, her voice muffled. “If I marry him, I will be nothing more than a figurehead, demoted to pushing out children and sitting on the throne while he makes all the decisions as king. He will not respect me, nor Hyrule.” She kicked her feet. “If I refuse him, he will take great offence and may even begin a war! He said his army is as large as our own.”

“It will not come to that,” Impa said. Zelda felt the laces at the back of her dress being pulled, and Impa tucked her hand under Zelda’s hip, and she allowed herself to be rolled onto her back.

“I do not know what to do,” she said, again, as Impa tugged her sleeves, easing the dress over her hands. Bare-chested, she sat up as Impa pulled the rest of the dress away and began to fold it. “I do not want to marry that man, but politically he is the best choice. Morally, I cannot.”

“Give it time, Zelda,” Impa said. “You are yet to meet with the others. Perhaps one of them will prove more suitable.”

Zelda ran her hands over her shoulders and across her chest. None of the nobles were who she wanted. Her mind turned to Link, his chiselled jaw, his lupine eyes. She covered her breasts, aware that her nipples were stiffening in the cooling air.

“A bath,” she said. “I want to wash his stink off of me.”

Impa nodded and glided silently from the room. Zelda flopped back on the bed and stared at the canopy. She would have to choose. One way or another, she must find a husband and bear a child. But no matter who she chose, she would be offending one great house or another. No matter who she chose, she would be sacrificing either her happiness, the good of the kingdom, or both.

She sighed. What would she do?


	24. 24 - Link

Link led the way through the castle, looping around the throne room and eventually coming out into the courtyard at the back. The wooden platform and pole were gone, the smooth cobblestone warming in the rising sun. Throwing a dark look to the centre of the courtyard, Link angled towards the arch that would take them to the training grounds, and the soldier’s barracks.

Thoria cleared her throat, rolling her tongue around her cheeks.

“I think that’s the last of it,” she said cheerfully. “Did you see their faces!”

“You mean faces of utter disgust?” Navi asked, from her perch on Link’s shoulder.

“Yeah,” Thoria said, grinning. “It was hilarious!”

Link smiled. “It was funny. I could have sworn your jaw unhinged.”

“I wonder what they’d have done if I’d dropped a fart on my way out?”

Link burst out laughing. Her comment had been so unexpected, so surprising, that he couldn’t help it. He stumbled, bent nearly double in his mirth. His back seared, and he flinched. Regaining his composure, he rose, and caught Thoria giggling behind her hand. He smiled. “Fainted, probably.”

“You shouldn’t behave like that,” Navi chided the stranger. “It gives you a worse image than you’ve already got.”

Link’s smile slipped, but Thoria shrugged.

“Eh, no biggie.”

“I did it first,” Link reminded the fairy. “What’s wrong with Thoria copying me?”

“Would she copy you if you jumped into lava?” Navi sniffed. Then, her eyes widened. “Don’t do that,” she said.

“It was funny,” Thoria said. “I like funny.”

“You have a bizarre sense of humour,” Navi grumbled.

“Okay, let’s calm down,” Link said, as Thoria gave Navi a politely befuddled smile. Navi grumbled something in a tongue he did not understand as they entered the training grounds.

It was the wrong time for the soldiers to be out training, and the grounds stood quiet and still. The trio paused at the archway, looking around. The grounds were vast, as were all the grounds of the castle. Neat, fenced rows stood to one side, an archery target at the end of each, peppered with hundreds of holes. To the other side, larger fenced squares had been constructed, containing battered straw dummies. Further back, a large, sand-filled sparring ring dominated the centre.

Link led Thoria past the fences to the low wooden shed on the other side of the sparring ring. He tugged open the door and slipped inside, feeling around. He ignored his objecting back as he picked up a long spear, a bow, and an assortment of blunted swords. Easing back out into the sunlight, he laid his selection at Thoria’s feet.

“You said you knew how to fight,” he said, rising. Standing straight lessened the pain across his shoulders. “Tell me. What do you know?”

Thoria cast a wary glance at the weapons on the ground, and up to Link. She edged forward and nudged one of the swords with her toe as Navi tugged on his earring.

“Are you insane?” the fairy hissed. “Don’t let her near weapons! You won’t be able to defeat her in your state!”

“And whose fault is that?” Link asked, coolly.

“Not mine!” Navi squeaked, indignantly. “You never had to save her!”

Link took a calming breath and declined to respond as Thoria prodded the weapons. She picked up the spear and held it awkwardly.

“Have you ever held a weapon?” Link asked, not unkindly.

“Knives,” Thoria responded. “And my fists.”

“That’s a good start,” Link said. “Have a look at the weapons. What feels right to you?”

Thoria shrugged and waggled the spear. Link shook his head.

“Hold it properly. Two hands.”

He moved forward and adjusted Thoria’s grip on the wooden handle.

“Here. Now it won’t fly out of your grasp when you spin it, or jab with it,” he said, rearranging her fingers. Her fingers were slender and strong, and once he had shown her, they held the spear with more confidence. She waved it from side to side experimentally.

“Good,” he said, stepping outside of her range. “Now, jab forward with it.”

Thoria jabbed, and overbalanced. Link allowed himself a smile.

“Change your stance,” he said. “Like-“

He stopped. Thoria had already righted her feet, one foot in front of the other, knees bent to lower her centre of gravity. She jabbed again, the spear tip wavering in the air. Her brow furrowed, and she jabbed again, hunching forward.

“Don’t bunch your shoulders like that,” Link advised. Thoria grunted, and dropped the spear. Link raised his eyebrows as she picked up a sword and tried a few swings.

“Stop teaching her!” Navi hissed. “You’re making her more dangerous!”

“Look at her,” Link murmured back, as Thoria tried a side-swipe and fell on her arse with a curse, the sword flying from her hand. “She wouldn’t cut steak like that.”

“So, keep it that way!” Navi said, pinching his earlobe.

Thoria growled something under her breath, picking herself up. She hooked the spear under her boot and flicked it up, grabbing wildly as it spun in the air. Link elegantly stepped to the side as it clattered to the ground.

“You have some work to do,” he advised. Thoria spun to him, her eyes blazing.

“I’m coming here every day,” she said. “Every fucking day until I can do better.” She drew herself up, and raised her fists in front of her face. “Spar with me.”

Link shook his head. “Not today.”

“Come on,” Thoria danced forward and feinted a jab at his shoulder. Link leaned out of the way with little effort. “Scared?”

“No,” Link said. “You’re just not ready.”

Thoria’s eyes flashed, and she lunged towards him. Link caught her wrist in one hand and spun, hooking his foot in front of hers and sending her sprawling in the dirt. Navi whooped and laughed as she fell, and pain gouged across Link’s back. He flinched, hunching over.

Thoria flipped back to her feet, teeth bared, and stopped. In an instant, she was upright and close.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Nothing,” Link said. “Just an old war wound.”

“Liar,” Thoria said, simply.

“If that’s what he says it is, then it is!” Navi said, shrilly. Link waved a hand.

“I’m fine. But let’s leave it here today, alright?”

“Okay,” Thoria said. “But I meant it earlier. I want to come here every day and learn.”

Link gingerly gathered the weapons and retuned them to their store. As he fell into step beside Thoria, making their way back to the castle, he cast a look her way.

“Why does a lady want to learn how to fight?”

“Because it’s interesting,” she said, looking ahead. “And I’ve had to fight before. I’d rather do it properly.”

“I’m going to try and be diplomatic here,” Link said. “Your style is a bit… unrefined.”

“Worked well for me in the past,” she retorted. “I’m alive, aren’t I?”

“You are,” Link agreed. “But have you ever had to fight for your life?”

Thoria shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“Then how do you know it’s worked for you?” Navi said. Thoria shrugged again and didn’t respond for a long minute. Passing a training dummy, she suddenly whirled, her leg extended to almost a split, in a powerful, downward slice. Her heel caught the head of the dummy and knocked it clean off. Landing, Thoria stepped forwards and punched the dummy so hard it rocked backwards, the dull thump echoing through the still air. Link took a step back, astonished.

Thoria shook out her hair like a black waterfall and continued to walk as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred.

“I’m strong, but I want to know how to fight properly, with my body and weapons,” she said, looking at Link. “Considering your history, I think you’d be the best person to teach me.”

“He’s got better things to do,” Navi snapped.

“He can answer for himself,” Link remarked. “I’d be glad to. I’m not the best, but I think we can improve on what you’ve got so far. But tell me. You are strong, and what you just did looks like you can fight. So how come I could beat you so easily?”

“I don’t know. Must be my memory.”

Link nodded. “Perhaps. Hopefully training will help you remember more of yourself.”

“Maybe. Thanks.”

Navi sniffed loudly and flew off his shoulder.

“Well, I think we should ask the princess,” she said. “She’ll agree with me that it’s a stupid idea.” With that, she flew off, her light blue glow lost against the azure sky.

“What’s her problem?” Thoria asked, her eyes on the sky above.

“She’s a worrier,” Link replied, after a beat. “She was concerned for me when I pulled you from the lake.”

“You’re not in the lake now,” Thoria said. “There’s more to it. Tell me.”

Link shook his head. She was still a stranger. To tell her of the prophecy would be the height of foolishness. “That’s all there is to it,” he said. “She’s seen a lot of battles with me over the years, and she’s seen me hurt more times than I can count. She’s probably the closest friend I have, so I can’t blame her for being concerned for me.”

Thoria nodded slowly, her mouth twisted. “Does she consider me a danger?”

Link shrugged uneasily. “You did fall out of the sky.”

Thoria gave a humourless chuckle. “I’d go back if I could.”

“Zelda will find a way,” Link reassured her. “It’ll just take time.”

They entered into the cool of the castle and made their way towards the stairs.

“Library?” Link asked.

“Might as well,” Thoria said. “Doesn’t matter if you want to tell me why or not, but your back is giving you real gip. So, we’ll take it easy for a while, okay?”

Link raised his eyebrows. “Yes ma’am.”

Thoria’s laugh was more genuine as they ascended, and upon reaching the Library, she picked a book at random and retreated to her favourite sofa, curling up and burying her nose in the pages. Link eased himself into a nearby armchair, too tired to bother with the façade of reading.

Instead, he watched the stranger read. The book was Hyrule’s Historia, a recent edition, edited by Shad and Zelda’s historians. He remembered the owlish scholar seated behind his desk, the rim of his glasses glinting in the firelight, his quill dancing over parchment as Link told his story. He had tried to be as thorough as he could, though he kept some details to himself.

Whilst he talked about the temples he had entered, seeking the Fused Shadow parts and Mirror shards, and spoke at length of the monsters and creatures he had faced, he neglected to mention any of his own feelings on the matter. He did not describe the abject terror he had felt when he came face to face with Death Sword, a gigantic, malevolent spirit with the skull of a goat that he could only see when he was a wolf. He did not define the sense of creeping dread he felt as he passed through the silent depths of the Water Temple, conscious that at any minute, something could seize him from behind without him knowing, the sounds of approach stifled underwater.

He did not tell of the nightmare of watching the sweet and gentle Yeta transform into an ungodly monstrosity, warped by the dark power of the Mirror Shard, nor of the following battle, skidding across the frozen room and narrowly avoiding being crushed by darkly enchanted ice.

He never told of his horror at encountering Zant at the Lake Spirit’s pool, how he was cursed once more into lupine form, Midna limp and dying on his back. How his lungs had burned as he raced across Hyrule, conscious that every passing moment was a minute nearer to losing her forever.

Instead he spoke of Zelda’s noble sacrifice, of the efforts of Telma and her band of resistance fighters, of his emotionless battle against Ganondorf. The necessity of shattering the Mirror and sealing away the Twilight forever. Though Shad often paused and gave him a curious and inviting look, Link gave nothing more than a clinically detailed account of his adventures.

Thoria sat up straighter in her seat, running her finger along the page and frowning. Link came back to alertness and eyed her curiously. After a long minute, he coughed delicately.

“Is everything alright?”

“Mm,” Thoria said, her brow furrowed. “I’m just trying to figure out this ancient Hylian.”

“Oh?” Link heaved himself out of his chair and came around behind her. The book was open to a page that showed a drawing of an ancient wall in an old temple, inscribed with the archaic lettering of ancient Hylian. Below the picture was a translation of the passage.

 _In times of great need, the Spirit of the Hero will rise to fight alongside the mortal Goddess to rid the world of the blight of malice_.

“Seems simple enough,” Thoria murmured, tracing her finger along the letters. “This character is ‘I’, and coupled with this one makes ‘in’ but it’s different for other placements…”

Link shook his head. “It’s extremely complex,” he said. “Princess Zelda had to study it for years before she could translate it properly.”

“Is it taught regularly?” Thoria looked up. “I could probably do with someone showing me the basics.”

Link shook his head. “No. It’s not widely studied. I believe it’s only the royal family and master scholars who can learn it. It is very difficult, most don’t bother.”

Thoria made a rude noise. “I’ll do it on my own then.”

Link sighed. “Good luck.”

He retreated to his seat and sat stiffly, the plush back of the chair pulling against his wounds. The cuts were tender, and he hoped he wouldn’t scar too badly. The marring of his skin did not irk him insomuch as the tightness of his back did. He would have to put in some serious effort to loosen his muscles once he was healed properly.

He watched Thoria pour over the book, her brow knitted. Occasionally she huffed and spat a muted curse. He resisted the urge to smile. She would give up soon enough, as she would no doubt give up weapons training. It was not something a woman did.

Except for Sheikah, Gerudo, or Hyrulean royalty.

He chuckled to himself. He was being ridiculous. If the princess could handle a bow, Thoria should be able to pick something up. His eyes strayed from her fierce expression, along her pale throat and to her chest, before he caught himself and snapped his eyes back to her face. Her face made tiny movements as she concentrated. Her lips moved, her nose twitched, and her brows seemed to cycle a never-ending pattern of rising, falling, creasing and smoothing. His eyes strayed again.

Her figure was gracefully curved, the soft edges of her shoulders and hips hiding powerful muscle. Her strength was astounding, even a fully-fledged knight would have difficulty decapitating a training dummy with a single kick. It contradicted her clumsiness in fighting him completely.

Was she hiding something?

Link looked at her more closely. He shook his head. No. Her memory was gone. Perhaps all people where she was from were as strong as she. He himself was naturally stronger than most men, and unusually gifted with weapons. He rubbed the back of his hand, his thumb tracing the triforce. He watched her eyes roving over the pages before her, the lashes long and thick. The curve of her small nose wrinkled as she grimaced at the book. her lower lip, full and cherry red, stuck out in a pout as she sighed. He swallowed as his eyes strayed down once again.

He became aware of footsteps in the library, and he jerked out of his reverie, turning to see Impa striding towards him, her face impassive.

“Her Highness would like to speak with you,” she said, stopping before him. Link blinked.

“I’m watching Thoria,” he said. Thoria snorted and muttered something.

“I will watch her for now,” Impa said. “This is a royal order.”

Link rose to his feet with a grunt. “I’ll go.” He turned to Thoria, who was making a show of continuing to read. Her eyes flickered to him, to the Sheikah, and back.

“I won’t be long,” he said. Thoria nodded, not raising her head.

Link slipped from the library and jogged to Zelda’s tower. He nodded to the guards posted outside her door and knocked, edging inside as Zelda called.

“Link. Please, come in.” Zelda was seated at her desk, her hair loose and damp over a simple gown. Navi sat cross-legged on a book, tearing into a piece of dried fruit. She ignored him.

“Highness,” Link said. “I have a feeling I know why you have called me.”

“Then I shall not mince my words,” Zelda said. She laid down her quill with a sigh. “Why are you teaching the stranger the art of weaponry?”

“For two reasons,” Link said. He stood loosely, his arms by his sides. In a glance, he took in the wide room that acted as a reception room, sitting room and study for the princess. The doors leading from the main chamber were not rooms he had seen, the only exit being the door he had come through. The windows were tall and wide with balconies without. Plenty of places to escape through, should the castle be besieged.

“Firstly,” he said. “I wanted to establish her familiarity with combat. Thoria is boastful and strong, but her skill is lacking. Physically, she does not pose a threat.”

“That is pleasing news,” Zelda said. “She is unfamiliar with weapons?”

“It seems so,” Link said. “Though she may be pretending, I doubt it.”

“Your second reason?”

Link hesitated. “I want to-“ he paused. That was it. He wanted to. But Zelda was watching. She wanted more than just his own desires. “I want to ensure that whatever skills she learns are learned from me. Then I can anticipate any trouble. It will also help me learn about her.” He twisted his mouth guiltily. True though his statement may be on the face of it, lying to the princess was _not_ something he enjoyed. Moreover, he was troubled at how easily the lie had slid from his tongue.

Zelda nodded.

“Very well. I was most concerned when Navi came to me with the news. I wanted to hear your reasons.”

“I understand,” Link said. As her gaze drifted from his face to the front of his tunic, a thought came to his mind. “Princess, may I ask you a question?”

“Of course,” Zelda said, giving him her full attention. Her eyes were tired and red rimmed.

“Do you trust my judgement?”

Zelda blinked. “Of course I do, Link. I trust you with my life.”

“Then allow me to make these decisions. I will always keep you informed of my choices, please know that they are made with Hyrule’s interest at heart.”

“I know this,” Zelda said. “I know you always think beyond yourself. You would have made a fine addition to my council.”

Link forced a smile. “I’m afraid I lack the patience for such things.”

“I don’t blame you.” Zelda’s smile was genuine. “If you feel that teaching the stranger weaponry would serve us well, then I allow it. But Link,” Zelda’s face grew serious. “If she poses a threat, in any way…”

“I’ll do what I have to.” Link said. “Hyrule comes first. You come first.”

Zelda’s eyes softened as her smile widened. “Thank you. Do you have anything new to report?”

“Not much. Thoria is currently trying to decipher ancient Hylian from the Historia.”

Zelda laughed. “A foolish endeavour. Even I still find it difficult.”

“I told her as much,” Link said. “But she’s stubborn. She seems to want to learn all she can, but she has chosen the most difficult things to learn. Weaponry does not come easily, especially as an adult learning it for the first time, and ancient Hylian…” he chuckled. “It’s keeping her out of trouble.”

Navi snorted from the book.

“Something to add, dear friend?” Link asked. Navi said nothing, but continued to chomp on the fruit.

“It will be time for dinner soon,” Zelda said. “You have my leave, Ser Link.”

“Are you coming?” he asked.

“Not yet. I have more work to do.”

Link nodded. “Thank you, Princess.”

As he moved for the door, Navi left the desk and flew to his shoulder, grasping his earring and chewing in his ear.

“Are you happy?” Link asked, as they began to descend the spiral stairs.

“Yes,” she said. “Zelda knows what she’s doing now.”

“And what is that?”

“Trying to learn to fight from the best swordsman in all the kingdom so that she can take over,” Navi said, primly, licking her fingers. Link twitched his ear.

“It would take her years to come even close to my level,” he said, allowing himself the boast. “In which time, I will also still be training. You have nothing to fear.”

“I hope you’re right,” the fairy said, setting down and snuggling against his jaw. “I’d hate to see you hurt by her.”

“How could she possibly hurt me?” Link asked. “She seems utterly harmless.”

“For all you know,” Navi said.

“Navi, I’ve barely known her a week,” Link said. “And so far, she hasn’t shown me any reason to be concerned.”

“She’s obviously hiding something, being that strong,” the fairy said. “I don’t want you or Zelda to get hurt. Yes, it’s only been a few days. But she’s evil. I can tell.”

Link sighed and shook his head. Navi had his best interests at heart. She always did. “If anything happens,” he vowed. “I’ll do what I have to.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.”


	25. 25 - Zelda

“Your royal Highness,” Lord Symper said, wringing his hands. “I find myself without words, the very breath stolen from my lungs in the face of your beauty.”

Zelda bit her cheek to keep from smiling. The Lord was tall and slender, his auburn hair immaculately groomed. His eyes were a soft amber, his beard a perfectly trimmed and curled goatee. His fine robes were pristine, periwinkle blue, a lovely contrast to her navy dress. As he took her hand to kiss the air above it, she noticed his nails were neatly manicured, his palms soft and scented with lemongrass.

Outside, the sky was a dark grey, rain lashing the windows with a ferocity akin to the turmoil in her heart. They were in the entrance hall, Lord Symper having arrived with his entourage of young and handsome footmen not moments ago.

“Thank you, Lord Symper,” Zelda said, as he stood back, crossing his hands in front of his stomach. The bouquet he had given her was an ostentatious thing, filled with a variety of florets she did not recognise, in every shade of blue. “I am honoured that you have agreed to join me.”

Zelda watched the Lord carefully. His contrast to Lord Dool was astonishing. This man was reserved, almost shy, and he afforded her the respect deserving of her position. His deferential stance, his gaze just to the left of her cheek, the distance between them both spoke of a careful study of regal courtship.

A week had passed since her meeting with Lord Dool, and every day since then, a footman baring his yellow crest had arrived at the castle with armloads of gifts for her. Bouquets of yellow flowers, always yellow, boxes of fine chocolates and luxurious sweets, bottles of the finest wine and beautiful gowns encrusted with jewels. Most of these gifts sat in an untidy pile in the corner of her study.

“Please, walk with me,” Zelda said, waving Lord Symper to her side. Her greeting rooms were a short walk away. Lord Symper offered her his arm, and she took it gently, appreciating his genteelness. He held his arm stiffly, as if unsure how close he should hold it to himself with the heir to the throne upon it.

“Have you visited before?” she asked, aware the Lord was staring around him.

“Only once, as a boy,” he said. “Such grandiosity and splendour caught my attention. I have attempted to replicate such luxury in my own halls, and whilst they are sumptuous, I feel they pale in comparison to your beauty.”

Zelda laughed softly. “You speak of my beauty often, my Lord.”

“It dazzles like the sun, your Highness,” he said.

They paused to allow a pair of nobles to pass them, the couple bowing to Zelda and peering curiously at Lord Symper. Impa stepped carefully ahead to open the side door for them, and they passed through, away from the prying eyes of the court.

“Oh, my princess,” Sypmer said, as they walked along the richly carpeted corridor. “My heart is aflutter, quivering in your presence. To meet with you at last, after the exchange of our letters-“

“I’ll kick your arse next time, just you wait!”

Zelda pulled up short, a gasp slipping from her lips. Ahead, Link and the stranger were traipsing through the hall at the end of the corridor, both soaked to the skin. Thoria was covered in mud, and Link was shaking his head. Zelda could not help but notice how tightly his clothes clung to him, emphasising the muscles in his arms, the shape of his legs, the curve of his as-

“You’ll have to try a _lot_ harder if you’re going to improve,” he was saying. “I lost count of how many times you dropped it.”

“Ooh, you little-“

The rest of Thoria’s words were lost as they disappeared through a door. Zelda mouthed silently for a moment, but Lord Symper recovered first. Zelda noticed he was looking as closely at the Hero as she had been.

“Was that… the Hero of Twilight?”

“Yes, it was,” Zelda admitted, her cheeks colouring. “He is currently… watching over a guest in my castle.”

“I would love to meet him,” Symper said, seemingly oblivious to the ridiculous display he had been subjected to.

“Perhaps,” Zelda said. “But _I_ desire your attention today, my Lord.”

Simper blinked. “Of course, your Highness, I never meant to offen-“

“Hush,” Zelda said, leading him to the greeting rooms. Impa, again, slid in front, as silent and unobtrusive as a shadow, and opened the door for them. Entering, Zelda acknowledged the shining marble floors, the exquisitely woven rugs, the expensive furniture, the classy paintings on the walls. To her, it was simple elegance. But to Lord Symper, if the way he stared about and gasped was anything to go by, it was glorious.

“My princess,” he said. “Such grandeur! You have the finest tastes.”

“The castle was furnished by my great-grandmother,” Zelda replied. She took an elegant seat on the closest sofa, one that offered a view of the whole room, the other seats angled deliberately to face her in such a way that she barely had to turn her head. Symper’s footmen outside, Impa stood in the corner and seemed to become one with the room.

“She had exquisite style,” Lord Symper offered, perching on the edge of a seat. Zelda smiled, and allowed the silence to blossom in the room between them. From what she had read, Symper held reasonable lands and a great deal of wealth, though he had few forces to speak of. His commons spoke kindly of him, but the impression that she had gained, and was currently being reinforced, was that he was not much of an authoritative man. As the silence grew and Symper began to fidget, Zelda maintained her composure, at ease in her castle.

“I need a king who can rule by my side,” she said, breaking the quiet. Symper looked up, his expression eager.

“I would bow to your every whim, my princess,” he said. “I would take it upon myself to see that your laws were upheld, whilst your every want and need is cared for. You would never need lift a finger again, save to love our… many children.”

Zelda smiled. “The ruling of Hyrule is an arduous task. It is best undertaken by a strong couple. I would expect my king to be able to stand his ground if he felt a decision is not in the best interests of the kingdom.”

“Of course,” Symper agreed. “As you command, it would be so.”

“And if the council disagree?”

“There… you would know the best way to govern, my princess,” he said. “Were I your king, you would have my unwavering support.”

“And what would you have of me in return?” she asked, quietly.

“Nothing but your love,” Symper responded.

“Your stance is honourable,” Zelda said. “But all men want for something. My hand, the throne, lands, titles or more wealth. What do you desire out of our potential partnership, my Lord?”

“It would be unbecoming of me to ask you of anything but your love, my princess,” Symper said. He leant forward, earnestly. “My princess, if you would have me, I would be nothing but loyal. I would be your humble servant, content to sit the throne at your side, to be close to you and your Chosen Knight is all that I would ever ask.”

Zelda kept her smile on her face. “My Chosen Knight serves me, and me alone, my Lord.” She watched carefully as Symper’s smile flickered.

“Your Highness,” he said. “Of course. He is your servant. Only, I wonder if he would serve us… both?”

Zelda’s smile did not falter. “He would. But as a knight only, my Lord.”

Symper swallowed. “His duties-“

“Are whatever I command,” Zelda said, calmly, though her heart began to beat a little higher in her chest. “And there are certain things I would not command of my Chosen Knight. Other servants, perhaps, would agree to engage in… personal matters, however, as my king…”

Symper jumped from his seat. “Your Highness, I must protest! What you are suggesting-“

“I have suggested nothing,” Zelda replied. “My Lord, you are a fine man. You are courteous and gentle, and you have a kind demeanour.” She rose. “I would happily consider a partnership between us.” She glanced at Impa. Her face was impassive. “However, I would request that you… think carefully about what such a partnership would mean for your happiness.”

Symper seemed to deflate before her eyes. With a sad sigh, he stepped forward and took her hand, kissing the air above it.

“I would be honoured to be your king,” he said, softly. “But I… perhaps I need time to consider what such a position means.”

“I think that wise,” Zelda replied, gently removing her hand. “I am pleased to have met with you, my Lord.”

“And I you,” Symper said. He stood tall, and strode with dignity to the door. As it clicked shut, Zelda flopped back on the sofa.

“At least he did not stare at my breasts,” she said, as Impa came forward.

“He would be the better choice,” she said. “If only for your welfare as a person.”

“But he would make for a weak king,” Zelda replied, draping a hand over her eyes. “He has no spine. He agreed with everything I said.”

“That is not always a bad thing,” Impa said, producing a goblet of wine that she handed over. “Provided that he listens to you, and not the council.”

“I cannot risk it,” Zelda said. “Besides. I believe his affections are focused on another.”

“I agree,” Impa said. Zelda looked up and caught the mischief dancing in her aide’s eyes. She allowed herself a smile. Impa always knew.


	26. 26 - Navi

Navi rose with the sun as she did each morning. She rolled over on her little bed and saw Link still sleeping, his face towards the window, and towards her. She felt a smile spread over her lips, her irritation at the Hylian ebbing away in the warm light of dawn. Over the past fortnight, Link had studiously adhered to his duties in guarding the stranger. Navi watched them both like a hawk, her eyes peeled for any hint of threat from the stranger.

She sighed. She hadn’t _seen_ anything yet. But she knew it in her bones. The stranger was dangerous, even if Link couldn’t see it. It frustrated her to her core that he wouldn’t just take his sword and do the deed quickly, instead of prolonging this ridiculous, slow dance of trying to get to know the woman, asking her questions and listening to her ramble about every inane thing under the sun.

It was blindingly obvious to Navi that the stranger, dangerous though she was, was completely stupid. She had no concept of the world around her, contenting herself to asking stupid questions about things every Hylian child knew about.

Yesterday, she had interrogated poor Link for hours about the goddesses. Navi sneered, picturing the stranger’s simpering face in her mind.

“Who are they? Where do they come from? Is there proof that they created the lands? What is it? Can I see? Tell me more!”

Navi shook her head and shrugged off her little blanket, tidying her shift. She flew down to Link’s pillow and patted his nose affectionately. He had answered every question with an enduring patience Navi had not known he had. Though she wished he reserved some of it for her. He _had_ been rather short with her of late. She felt a shudder of irritation shiver through her wings. The way he smiled at her sometimes, that patient, almost caring smile, as if he was a parent watching his child learn about the world and taking pride in it! How silly. He was better than that.

Link stirred under the covers, and Navi flittered to the edge of his pillow. His eyes dragged open, and he peered blearily at her.

“Good morning,” she said, smiling brightly.

“Morn-uh,” he mumbled, raising a sluggish hand to rub his eyes. “Whatimesit?”

“Just after sunrise,” Navi said. “You should sleep some more. You look like you need it.”

Link mumbled something unintelligible and rolled over, sitting up and swinging his legs over the side of the bed. Navi flew around to face him, noting with alarm how the bags under his eyes seemed to have grown, the lines on his forehead more pronounced than before. He rose unsteadily to his feet and ambled into the bathroom. Navi sighed, a soft smile on her face. It was the same every morning. At least he was healing quickly from his whipping. The cuts on his back were mere pink stripes now.

She settled on his pillow, breathing the air heavily laden with his scent, watching the hands on the timepiece crawl by. Ten minutes passed before he emerged, his hair wet, and his eyes considerably more alert than before.

“Shall we go to breakfast?” Navi said. She wasn’t particularly hungry, but she was craving more of that crispy bacon. It crunched so delightfully between her teeth.

“I thought we’d go to town today,” Link said, picking up his clothes. He disappeared behind the corner screen, throwing his sleeping clothes out from behind it to land in a crumpled heap. Navi fidgeted, eyes on the crack between the panels. She could see nothing.

“That sounds nice,” she said. “We never go to town any more. Has Zelda asked you to go and do something?”

“No,” Link replied, appearing from behind the screen, pulling on his tunic. Navi snatched the second offered to her and drank in his corded muscles. The way the early sunlight played off the curve of his chest was delicious. “Thoria hasn’t seen Castle Town yet. I thought it would be nice for her.”

Navi’s mood soured instantly. Of course, it would be about the stranger.

“Can’t she be looked after by someone else for once?” she complained. “She’s always following you about.”

Link shook his head, strapping on his greaves. “I’m supposed to have her follow me everywhere,” he said.

Navi flew to him as he picked up his hat.

“It’s never just us anymore,” she said, settling on his shoulder. “I miss it being just us.”

“I know,” he said. “I understand. But it’s not so bad, Navi. I could be saddled with a hag who can’t hold a conversation to save her life.”

“You are,” Navi muttered. Link didn’t respond, concentrating on putting on his hat and fixing his hair in the mirror. Navi waited patiently as he fussed with his darkly golden locks, so dark they were almost brown. He combed his fingers through his fringe, and smoothed his eyebrows with his thumb. He raised his lip and ran a tongue over his white teeth.

“You think they’re going yellow?” he asked her.

“You look wonderful,” Navi said. She ran a finger along his cheek. “You could probably do with a shave, though.”

“I might later,” he said, scratching his stubbled jaw. Navi pouted. She preferred his cheeks smooth and youthful, so much nicer to rest against than the coarse hair that appeared nightly on his otherwise perfect face.

Navi settled against his neck and grasped his earring as Link left their rooms and strode along the corridor. Silently, she willed him to slow his pace. The size of the castle mean it would take him at least five minutes to reach the stranger’s rooms, but it was five minutes she could stretch out. Five minutes of having him all to herself.

But too soon they arrived. Sunlight dipped through the windows of the corridor, blinking in and out of existence as clouds passed over the sun.

Link knocked, his knuckles rapping the dark wood. He lowered his hand and shuffled his feet, shifting his weight from one side to the other. Navi cast a curious glance at his face. To most people, his expression would be blank, impassive. But to her, she saw the way his eyes moved over the door, the way the corners of his mouth twitched one way, then the other.

She frowned. Was he… nervous? Did he too sense something wrong with the stranger, that made him uncomfortable like her?

The door opened and the stranger was revealed, dressed simply in a dark brown blouse and… Navi wrinkled her nose. Black travelling trousers and knee-high black boots. Her hair was tied back today, showing off her weird, round ears.

“Morning!” she said, in what seemed to be an attempt at cheeriness.

“Good morning,” Link replied. He seemed a little breathless. Navi watched him curiously. His eyes were bright, and he was smiling. How strange.

“I thought we could explore the town today,” he was saying. “We’ve been cooped up in the castle for a while now.”

“That sounds nice,” the stranger said. “The castle’s too big to be ‘cooped up’ in but I agree. A change of scenery would be good.”

They began to walk together, side by side. Navi fluttered off Link’s right shoulder and settled on his left, away from the stranger. She didn’t like the way the stranger stared at her, as if she had never seen a fairy before. Navi knew she claimed that fairies didn’t exist where she came from, but she suspected that was a lie. In what world did fairies not exist?

Navi kept her silence as the pair made small talk, rambling about nothing. Furtively, she glanced at the stranger, searching for any strangeness about her, anything odd, anything dangerous. Infuriatingly, she saw nothing but a very ugly woman with round ears, making her Link laugh with some jape or another.

“I heard Lord Umbre called on you last night,” Link said. His tone was light, but Navi detected a deliberateness behind his words. She listened closely. Was Lord Umbre a threat as well? Was he in league with the stranger?

“Ha!” the stranger laughed. “He did. He said he wanted to ‘show me around’.”

“The castle?”

“Yep. A ‘moonlight stroll,’ he called it. I told him you had been showing me about and that I didn’t need another guide.”

“Oh.”

“He was a bit pushy,” the stranger continued. There was a smile on her face that showed too many teeth, that didn’t reach her eyes. Eyes that were flat and hard. Navi shivered. “Wouldn’t take no for an answer. Kept offering me all sorts of things if I’d just walk with him a while.”

“Like what?” Link’s tone lowered. Navi stared at him. He sounded concerned.

“Money, jewels, flowers, fancy new clothes to replace my ‘common garb,’” the stranger ticked off each item on her fingers. “Rooms in his own personal manor, with all the sweets I could ask for, my own pony, of all things.” She laughed. “I believe your nobility have no concept of what ‘no’ means.”

“You could have accepted,” Link said. “Money and jewels sounds nice.”

“I am not a kept woman,” the stranger said. “I have never been, and I never will be.”

“I didn’t say you should be,” Link said. “Just take the money and run.”

The stranger laughed. “Nah. No point, is there? Your princess would have the whole kingdom after me if I did a bunk.”

“True. But all the same, having the nobility on your arm is nothing to sniff at here. He must have been quite taken with you.”

“Oh yeah. Kept telling me how ‘beautiful’ I was, the git. He fucked off after I told him that he looked like the way a bucket of horse piss smells.”

Link burst out laughing, the sound loud in Navi’s ears. She flinched and glared at the stranger, and Link. He was trying far too hard to be nice. The joke wasn’t even funny.

Navi snuggled closer to Link’s neck as they entered the sunshine, trotting down the white, marble steps. She held tightly to his earring, taking care to stroke his cheek with her wings as they went. She tuned out the chatter, concentrating instead on the soft baritone of Link’s voice, the sound conjuring images of sunlit, burnished wood shelves in an old shop, of deep, forest greens and the scent of wheat in summer.

The stranger began to babble excitedly as they passed under the open portcullis, her inane conversation turning to frivolous questions about the world around her, including a torrent of foul language as she stumbled on the uneven road. She kept up a steady stream of nonsensical queries until they reached Castle Town, when she finally managed to shut up for all of five seconds.

Navi stirred herself, stretching her wings and flying off Link’s shoulder to better see around them. She had learned over the years to always be alert for danger, no matter where they were. And, as strangely distracted as Link had been of late, it was up to her now to warn him of any impending peril.

The long road from the castle narrowed somewhat, turning from marble to cream stone to grey brick. Houses and shops sprung up in a wide circle, a fountain dominating the centre of the plaza. People bustled to and fro, and Navi delighted in watching them glance towards them, and then stop and stare. Stare at her hero, at the reason they all were alive.

Below her, Link hesitated for half a heartbeat. Navi saw him glance about, his feral eyes taking in everything before him. One foot shifted, as though he was about to take a step back.

Navi hovered. Link’s unwillingness to bask in the adoration of the people he had saved was something she simply did not understand. He was the Hero of Time, the Hero of Twilight, of the Four Swords and the Sky and all the rest. He deserved their love, deserved to revel in it. But he never did. He ducked and shied and avoided the public as though they were diseased. She watched as his heel came down, shifting his weight onto his back foot.

But then the stranger grabbed his hand, as familiar as though they were old friends, pointing excitedly at one of the market stalls. Link smiled, and allowed her to lead him over. Navi followed, shaking her head. It would have been better if they had gone back to the castle. There was no telling what the stranger could do, what damage she might cause out in public. Yet here she was, pretending for all the world that she really was just a lost soul, fascinated by the world around her.

Navi flew back down to Link’s shoulder, turning her back to the items on display as the shopkeeper patiently explained the variety of tools to the stranger. She observed the crowd, growing ever closer and thicker as the people murmured to one another, pointing to the Hero in their midst. Some noticed her, pointing and smiling. Navi raised a hand and waved regally at them, fluttering her wings and shaking out her lustrous blue hair.

“What’s that?” the stranger asked. Navi grimaced. Her voice was like nails on slate.

“A Skulltula talisman,” Link said. “It is said to bring wealth.”

“Does it?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never bought one.”

Navi shook her head. Link’s unending patience was one of his best qualities, and one of his worst. His dedication to his duty and orders was admirable, but did he have to suffer this endless onslaught of moronic questions?

She felt Link shift, and glanced his way. His hand was on the stranger’s elbow, guiding her to the next stall, pointing out an array of knives laid out on red cloth. Navi tensed, but the stranger did not reach out and grab one, turning to sink the blade into her Hero. She looked, nodding, questioning, smiling. Link’s smile crinkled the corners of his eyes, eyes that were soft and gentle, the eyes of a powerful wolf turned eager puppy.

Navi kept her guard up as Link led the stranger around the market, studiously ignoring the crowd that furtively gathered behind his back. He was talking himself now, his voice low and melodious, while the stranger listened. He had rarely talked so much. He directed her about the market, his hand on her arm, pointing out various oddments. As Thoria became absorbed in an intricately woven necklace, he touched her shoulder for her attention, pointing out the carvings on the stone walls and explaining their meaning. The stranger listened with rapt attention, listening to stories even the smallest child knew.

Link bought them both small meat pies, the smell enticing. Navi’s mouth began to water as they were handed over, and Link broke off a piece of the crust, drenched in thick, beef gravy and offered it to her. Navi refused, surprising herself. As good as it smelled, she would not let her guard down.

They wandered some more, Link stopping to say hello to a curious gaggle of children, who stared at him with wide, adoring eyes as their mothers fanned their faces and blushed.

They came to Shad’s bookshop, the windows dark and the door locked. Link placed his hand on the small of the stranger’s back, drawing her forward and pointing out the piles of books in the windows. His hand lingered until the stranger shifted, stepping closer to admire the written works. As she stepped back, Link’s hand rose, seemingly without his knowledge, and rested between her shoulder blades as he coaxed her onward again.

Each time he touched the stranger, Navi’s rage grew, until she was shaking with fury.

“I need to talk to you,” she growled in his ear, as the stranger examined a handheld mirror at yet another stall.

“Can it wait?” Link asked. “I can’t leave Thoria.”

“No,” Navi said. “Now.” She fluttered off his shoulder and hovered in front of his face, arms folded.

Link looked at her, his expression politely confused. He took a step away from the stall, keeping the stranger in the corner of his vision. “Is something wrong?”

“You’re supposed to be _guarding_ her,” Navi said, her tiny fists clenched. “Not escorting her about like… like… some lady!”

“Thoria is a lady,” Link said, his brow creasing. “At least, from what I can see.”

As if to demonstrate his point, the stranger bounced to his side, grinning like an idiot. Link glanced at her, his eyes flickering down as her chest bounced as well in her too-tight blouse. His throat worked as he swallowed. It was the last straw for Navi.

“See what the commons think of you now that you’re seen carting a floozy about,” Navi sneered, with as much venom as she could muster. She had the pleasure of seeing the stranger’s face go from happy, to confused, to hurt, before she saw Link’s eyes. They were almost glowing with anger, and his bared teeth seemed unusually sharp.

Navi decided to make a quick exit, flying high and fast, aiming for the castle. She would visit Zelda in her chambers, and tell her about what had happened, about how dangerous the stranger was.

How she had… Navi shook her head. She had done something. How she… she… was too large-breasted, and flaunted it in front of people by… wearing clothes not tailored to her. No. That wasn’t dangerous, Zelda wouldn’t be able to act on it. How she had… um…

Navi squealed in frustration. The stranger was so sneaky! Nothing she did was overt, her nasty ways just couldn’t be put into words! She was too familiar with Link, that much was obvious. She had no right to make him smile at her the way he had started to. No right to make him touch her at every chance he had today. It was her fault. She must have cast a spell on him! A spell to make him stupid, so she could be evil and horrible and he wouldn’t even realise!

Navi slowed as she reached the castle, angling her wings and flying up, the sun hot in the sky, the wind cool on her skin. She sniffed. The way he looked at the stranger should be the way he looked at Zelda. His princess, his partner in saving Hyrule, another bearer of the triforce. They were destined for each other, couldn’t he see that?

Even to Navi, the thought was hollow. She felt a longing in her heart, in her stomach, in her loins. The look he gave to the stranger was a look he should save for his best friend, the friend who had waited for him for centuries, for him to be reincarnated so that they could be together again. He should save that look for her and her alone.

Navi flew past Zelda’s window. She didn’t want to see her anymore. No, what she needed was to go home, home to rest. But a day in the fae realm could be a day here in Hyrule, or a week, or a year. She never knew how much time would pass. She hadn’t been home since she had found Link again.

But there were things in the fae realm that only existed there. Old magics, ancient books, strange flowers and living winds. There was something she had to find. A magic she hoped existed.

Navi lit on the roof of Hyrule castle, drawing on her own magic. She sang an incantation, the words one long, unbroken sound. Her fingertips sparkled, and a swirling, purple and pink portal appeared before her, both flat and fathomless at the same time, filled with all the stars of the night sky and the blackness of a moonless night. From within, the perfume of the fae realm slid through, intoxicating and enchanting. To Navi, it was the smell of home.

She cast a look back over Hyrule, her sharp eyes searching for her Hero. He was down there, somewhere, with that stranger. The goddesses only knew where he was touching her now. How he was looking at her now. He was blinded by the stranger’s spell. Navi would make him see the truth.

Navi stepped through the portal, the opening shrinking behind her and closing the gateway between their two worlds as surely as if it had never existed.


	27. 27 - Link

Two weeks passed in a blur. Link adhered to his duties, spending his days with Thoria, and reporting to Zelda at the end of the day. He found with each report, he had less and less to say. Their days were much the same, spent exploring the castle or its grounds, in the library, or at the training grounds. True to her word, Thoria insisted that they go every day, come rain or shine, to train. His back was healed, with little more than pink stripes on his skin that would, in time, fade into nothing more than silver lines. Five more to join the countless others he had earned over the years.

They had yet to return to Castle Town. Following Navi’s shocking outburst, Link had grown weary of the stares of the people around him, who grew bolder with each passing moment, pressing in on him, circling him and Thoria like wolfos. Thoria had been enraptured by the sights around her, staring openly at the townspeople as they stared at her, the eyes of some of the women openly hostile. Thoria hadn’t seemed to care, but when Link suggested quietly that they head back, she hadn’t argued.

“One more time,” he said, as Thoria circled him, her spear held steady in her hands. “Forward!”

Thoria sprang toward him, jabbing the blunted spear out as she went. She landed elegantly, her weight on her forefoot, using her back leg for balance as she swung the spear to the side in a powerful arc. Link jumped forward himself, jabbing a spear of his own towards her face. She jerked back, swinging her weapon around to deflect his blow.

He prodded her shoulder with the spear and she swore, violently.

“Motherfucking fuck, _fuck_! I almost had it!”

“You’re still swinging too wide to begin with,” Link said, jamming his spear in the ground and approaching. “Here.”

He took Thoria’s hand, closing her fingers around the shaft of the spear. He angled it, so that it began the arc she had performed before.

“You’re swinging all the way out here,” he said, guiding her arm. She watched, dipping into the half-crouch she had used before. Her head level with his chest, she glanced up, her eyes hard and emerald.

“You need to stop your arc here,” Link continued, focusing on his task. “This way, you have less air to move through, and more time to block an attack. You’re leaving yourself too open.” He moved her arm closer to her body.

Thoria nodded, and he glanced at her face. There was a thin line of colour along her cheekbones, her eyes bright. The freckles across her nose stood out against the paleness of her face, and he found his breath suddenly caught in his throat.

“Right,” Thoria said, rising. Link marvelled at her control. Most men would struggle to balance on a half-bent leg for as long as she had, let alone rise with the grace that she did. Her command over the spear and the bow had improved drastically over the last fortnight, and she showed no sign of slowing her progression. “Like this.”

She stepped back and swung the spear, stopping where Link had shown her. He nodded.

“Good,” he said. “You’ll be better protected if you keep everything close.”

“That’s a good philosophy to live by,” Thoria said. She upended her spear and drove it into the dirt. She offered Link a playful smile. “Spar?”

Link chuckled. “Alright.”

They faced each other, raising their fists. Thoria rolled her neck from side to side, the clicking of her joints sharp on the air. She grinned, hunching over, making herself a smaller target.

Her skill with her fists rivalled only that of her skill with a sword. She was far more talented with a spear and a bow than a sword, and Link brought to mind an image of her, standing tall and confident, the muscled of her back contracting as she drew her bowstring, loosing an arrow into the centre of the target, again and again and again, grouping her arrows perfectly. He saw her spinning her spear, the shaft almost a part of her body. She was improving almost unbelievably quickly in all her weaponry, but she still had much to learn of the sword, the art of which still escaped her.

Link turned slightly sideways, angling his arms so that his torso was covered. Thoria tried a few testing jabs, which he easily batted away. Suddenly, with an explosion of movement, Thoria darted forward, feinting left and right, dancing with her feet to fake kicks at his ankles. Link deflected, dodged and otherwise avoided the onslaught. Seeing an opening, he flicked out a hand and lightly tapped the side of her head. She growled.

“Git.”

“You rely too much on your strength,” he said. “You’re fast, but not fast enough,” he said, tapping her shoulder. Too late, she leant out the way, raising her hands to defend. She left her other side exposed as she turned, and Link rewarded the movement with a gentle pat to her arm. “You’re impatient. You anticipate moves before they happen when they’re not going to.”

Thoria bared her teeth in a tight smile.

“One of these days, I’m going to have you,” she said.

“I’m sure you’ll try,” Link said, grinning. Thoria feinted again, two quick jabs to his chest.

“Your eyes tell me where you’re going,” he said, as he knocked her fists aside. “Focus on me. All of me.”

Thoria danced away as he made a grab for her wrist. “Okay.”

She came at him again. She was tiring. She stared ahead, careful not to let her eyes lead him to where she planned to strike. But still, they flickered, preparing him for her next blows. Smiling broadly, Link deflected a flurry of jabs and slaps before she leant to the side, trying to slip his guard.

Laughing openly, Link caught her wrist, aiming to push her to the ground. In one fluid motion, Thoria bent her knee and exploded upward, leaving the ground as she spun, her other hand grabbing for his shoulder. Using his body as leverage, she spun behind him and pulled him back, his arm pulled across his chest.

They fell to the ground with a grunt, Thoria beneath him. On his back, he was prone, and Thoria hooked her legs around his middle.

“Gotcha,” she said.

Link laughed. “Well done. Now what?”

“I…” Thoria paused. “What do you mean?”

“What will you do now? If you have slain your foe, you’re stuck under a dead weight.” To prove a point, Link let himself go limp, and Thoria huffed.

“Okay, okay! Jesus, you’re heavy.”

“I’ll try not to be offended,” Link said, allowing her some respite.

“Well, muscle’s heavier than fat and you’re nothing _but_ muscle.”

Link allowed himself a smile.

“So, if I’m not dead, what do you do?”

“Um.”

Thoria reached over and hooked an arm around his throat, applying no pressure.

“Good idea,” Link said. “But.” He pulled her arm away with ease. “It won’t work.”

“If I had a dagger, I could stab you,” she said.

“You could. But you don’t. You’re stuck.”

“Stalemate,” she replied, shrugging. “You can’t get me either.”

In response, Link shoved Thoria’s legs off him and flipped over, rolling in the air to face the dark-haired woman. She laughed in surprise as he planted his hands to either side of her face.

“Yeah, well doing that, I can, I don’t know. Headbutt you?” She reached to grasp the sides of his head.

“I’m in a better position to do so,” Link said, taking her wrists and pinning her to the ground.

“I’ll crush you, then,” Thoria said, looping her legs around his middle. She began to squeeze, gently at first, then harder. Link felt his breath leave him in a rush.

“You could,” he panted. “But I’d just choke you.” He raised a gentle hand to her throat. Thoria smiled at him, her eyes half-lidded. Her legs around him, one of his hands pinioning her wrist, the other gently at her long, pale neck. She shifted under him. Link felt his mouth go dry, and he found himself at a loss for words.

Thoria tilted her head, her eyes curious. She bit her lip, and Link found his head lowering.

Suddenly, the dark alter flashed into his mind, and he launched himself up, and away. Thoria exclaimed as she was dragged across the ground, loosening her legs and sitting up.

“You okay?” she asked, clambering to her feet. Link stood a few paces away, his heart racing.

“Fine,” he said, too quickly. He forced a smile. “Just…”

“Old battle wound.” Thoria said, gently.

“Yeah.”

She nodded, and patted his arm. “Then let’s call it here for today. I’m starving, anyway.”

They replaced their weapons in the storage shed, leaning them carefully in their holds. Together, they began the walk back to the castle, taking their time. As they went, Link glanced at the sky.

“Navi still not back?” Thoria asked.

Link shook his head. “Can you read my mind or something?”

Thoria grinned and waggled her fingers mysteriously. “If only you knew!”

Link forced a laugh. “No. I’ve not seen her.”

“I hope she’s okay,” Thoria said, her smile fading.

Link glanced at her. “After…?”

“I don’t care about the market,” Thoria said, her tone suddenly sharp. “She’s your friend. A friend of yours is a friend of mine, even if I have to work at it a little.”

“She’s probably just sulking somewhere,” Link said. “It’s not the first time she’s gone off for a while.”

He didn’t look at Thoria as he said this. In truth, he was very worried. Navi had rarely left his side, and when they were apart, it was never for more than a few hours at a time. Though often he had longed for a break from her shrill voice, her nagging, her insistence at being with him wherever he went, now she had gone, he missed her. He offered a quick prayer to Hylia that, wherever she was, she was safe, and on her way back.

“Sure,” Thoria said. “If I may…” she gave him a cheeky smile. “Forgive me, but it must be nice to have a break from all that nosiness.”

Link couldn’t stop himself from smiling. As concerned for the fairy as he was, he had to admit, the last few weeks had been very peaceful indeed.

They passed through the kitchens, Link swiping a steaming cucco from off a counter and onto a pilfered tea towel, Thoria scooping a bowl of roast potatoes from the table. Link snagged a jug of gravy and they sauntered on, exiting the kitchen just as a confused shout began as the door shut behind them. Thoria sniggered.

“You’d have thought they’d suspect us by now,” she said, plucking one of the potatoes from the bowl and tossing it in the air. She sidestepped and caught it in her teeth. “Mm. Crunchy.”

“It’s amazing what people don’t notice,” Link agreed, his mouth watering at the scent of roast cucco and rosemary wafting from under the towel. “None of them noticed the twilight had covered Hyrule until it was too late.”

“That’s people for you,” Thoria shrugged. “It’s easier to ignore something odd than to confront it and accept that something’s not right. It was the same at home.”

Link slowed as they entered a smaller corridor. “Do you remember more?”

“Nothing about me,” Thoria said. “But I’m remembering bits of history. Old history, mind, from like, several hundred years ago. I think I learned about it as a child.”

Link remained quiet. Pressing Thoria never yielded an answer, and sometimes, his probing had caused her to forget again. Reaching a large, dusty old tapestry depicting the Great War, Thoria used her free hand to pull it away from the wall, revealing an alcove set a few metres deep into the stone. An arrow slit let light into the hidden space, enough to see by. Link ducked under the tapestry and Thoria followed, sitting cross-legged on the floor and placing the potatoes in front of them. Link spread the towel and pulled out his knife, carving the cucco as Thoria halved the potatoes into two piles.

They ate in silence, Link keeping an ear out for approaching footsteps. Thoria had found this hidden place a week ago. It had almost seemed like she could see right through the woven cloth and into the space beyond, the way she had homed in on it. She had paused, her head to one side, green eyes roving over the stitched scene, before she had stuck out a hand and tugged.

Link had leapt forward, his heart in his throat, terrified of what wrath would befall them both if such an ancient piece was damaged. But the heavy material had come away from the wall, revealing the secret area, and Thoria had grinned like a child.

Now, after every training session, they had stolen food from the kitchens and come here to eat in peace, away from the nosy nobles and staring servants. This thievery had been Thoria’s idea, too.

“Oh, come on, it’ll be fun!” she had said. “It’s all going to be eaten anyway.”

“We’ll get caught,” Link had warned.

“Not if we act like we’re meant to be doing it,” she had insisted. “It’s a cool psychological trick. Act like you’re meant to be there, meant to take stuff, and no one questions you. Besides, this is for people living here. Technically, it’s ours, we’re just having it a bit early.”

Link had refused the first time, following two steps behind as they crossed the huge kitchen. Thoria had brazenly reached out and pinched a couple of apples, a jug of milk, and a joint of cold ham, balancing them in her arms, before she reached out and stole a steaming cherry pie that had been set on the counter not a minute before. Link hung back, his mouth opening, as she sauntered on, the eyes of the servants and staff passing over her as if she wasn’t there.

Mallory had turned to the counter and blinked. She looked at the counter, at the floor, and at Link.

“Did you see a pie here?” she asked.

Dumbly, Link shook his head and hurried after Thoria, heading to the tapestry, marvelling at her.

He came back to himself as they continued to eat, the cucco succulent and hot, the potatoes crispy on the outside and fluffy on the inside. They took turns dipping into the gravy, careful not to spill any.

As they finished, Thoria sat back with a sigh, stretching, and reached inside her blouse, causing Link to freeze and stare, wide eyed. Her hand came out, long fingers holding a small jonquil flower.

“For you,” she said, passing it over. Link’s heart slowed as he took the flower, a bemused smile pulling his lips.

“Thanks?” he said. “What for?”

“All flowers have a meaning,” Thoria said.

“What does this one mean?”

She smiled, knowingly. “What do you think?”

“I have no idea. You’re the one who knows.” Link twirled the little flower, the petals soft and yellow.

“I do. But I’m not going to tell you everything I know,” she laughed. “Some secrets I have to keep for myself.”

“So, what was the point in giving it me then?” Link asked, playfully. “If you’re not going to tell me what it means?”

Thoria shrugged. “Seemed like a good idea at the time.”

She began to tidy the debris of their supper, wrapping the remnants of the food in the towel.

“Does it mean ‘I’m going to kick your arse in training?’” Link asked. Thoria chuckled.

“You’re a good guesser. But not quite. It’s…” she hesitated. “It’s got a few meanings. I know you’ve been struggling a bit and…” she looked away, ducking her head. “What with Navi not being here, and whatever else it is you don’t want to talk about. It means sympathy, among other things.”

Link nodded, his neck prickling. He hadn’t realised he had been so obvious. His nightmares had evolved into night terrors, ejecting him from sleep with violent intensity, covering him in cold sweat and sapping the little energy he had garnered from his brief rest. Sometimes, he had awoken to find himself out of bed, standing against the wall, in the bathroom, and once, hauntingly, on the balcony, his hands resting on the marble railing. The alter rose in his mind each night, and Link dreaded the coming of the darkness.

It was only with the rising sun that he had finally been able to chase away the fear, where no blackness coiled, ready to attack. But even in the day, shadows were cast, and his exhausted mind conjured things in the corner of his eye that left him flinching.

He realised Thoria was staring curiously at him. He had been silent for almost a full minute.

“Thank you,” he said. “Really.”

“You can talk about it, you know,” she said, her voice soft. “I’ll listen.”

Link let out a bark of humourless laughter.

“I’m fine,” he said. “Just tired. I don’t sleep much.”

Thoria looked unconvinced. “If you say so.” She rose, lifting the debris of their meal. “I’m going to go back to the library if that’s alright with you. I want to look over those blueprints of the castle again. I’m convinced there are secret passages somewhere.”

Link tried to untense his shoulders as he followed her out. No one would ever know what was in his mind. He was safest with his secrets held close to his chest, where no one could use them to hurt him. It was best for Thoria not to know what nightmares drove him to the brink of madness each night.

He imagined the look on her face if he told her and went cold all over. The commons could look at him with eyes of all kinds. Adoration, respect, even worship. That, he could stomach. The nobles could view him with their own lenses. Boredom, tolerance, and detachment. This, he could endure. None of them yet would look at him for what he really was. A coward with a sword, a pretender in knight’s clothes. A broken man held together with string.

Even Midna had grown to speak to him with some reverence after he had saved her life. But despite her knowing his past lives, Thoria was the only person left who didn’t treat him like anything other than a man. Who teased him with a casual grace, who was unafraid to speak her mind in front of him. Who spoke to him like she did any other. Who did not treat him any differently. It was almost addicting, this casual conversation, the relaxed atmosphere, the naturalness of it, as refreshing as cool water in an autumn stream.

Link pushed the darkness down within himself. If it meant that he could cling to the façade of normality, she would never know the secrets he kept.


	28. 28 - Zelda

Zelda hurried along the narrow corridor and ducked under a curtain. Hidden away behind the woven cloth was not a window, but a narrow archway, about a foot deep. At the end of it was a door, an arched door made of old, strong wood and iron barring. The princess knocked three times and entered.

She found herself in a sizeable, circular chamber. A fire dominated the middle of the room, a peculiar feat of magical engineering that somehow managed to vent the smoke outside with no obvious chimney. A long, round table encircled the fire completely, joined by nine seats. The walls were adorned with strange markings, bundles of herbs and portraits of people that gave Zelda the creeps.

The single, arched window was closed and curtained, the only light coming from the fire and from the few scattered candles in brackets. The air was heavily perfumed with astragalus, and shadows danced along the walls. From everywhere and nowhere, a strange hissing came, whispered words that half-appeared on the edges of her hearing. The fire flared, and Zelda fancied she saw several pairs of red eyes glowing in the darkness.

Zelda shook her head. “Must we always indulge in such frivolities, Mages?”

From the shadows by the wall, a distinctly disgruntled voice issued forth.

“It is our way, Princess, as you well know.”

“I am not a child to be frightened by parlour tricks,” Zelda said. “Come forward. I wish to speak with you about the events of a month ago.”

The room seemed to brighten as Zelda’s mages came forth. There were seven of them, in total, each skilled in a different branch of magic. Zelda took them all in with a sweep of her eyes. All were present. She lowered herself into the nearest chair, Impa sliding into the one next to her. As one, the mages waved their hands, and their chairs slid out. As one, they stepped forward and lowered themselves, and their chairs slid under the table with a seamless grace. Zelda allowed herself a small smile. If nothing else, her mages were wonderful showmen.

“What have you to report, Princess?” said the Mage of Nature asked. Her silvery hair was entwined with a crown of living grass, and she tapped earth-stained fingers in her lap.

“Less of a report, and more a request for an update on your findings,” Zelda said. “Impa, if you would?”

The Sheikah rose gracefully. “I spoke with my agents this morning. They found nothing suspicious at Lake Hylia,” she said, her voice clear in the quiet room. “They searched high and low, interrogating the resident entertainers and Zora. They beseeched the spirit of light for aid and advice, but he did not answer them.”

“You found nothing?” Zelda asked, dismayed.

“Nothing,” Impa confirmed. “No one had seen the sky open, nor anything else suspicious. Though Fyer did claim he had heard some thunder around the time of the incident.”

“That is frustrating,” Zelda said, leaning back in her chair. She addressed her Mages. “Have any of you found anything?”

Around the table, the Mages shifted. The Mage of Elements shook his head, the Mage of Light shrugged. The Mage of Wisdom raised her head, her ancient face a map of lines.

“It is the strangest magics,” she said, her voice creaking like a tree in the wind. “For the sky to open and a person to come through, leaving no trace in the air. All magic leaves a trace. There was none to be found at Lake Hylia, your Highness.”

Zelda took a breath. “I am at a loss. What should we do?”

“Do?” came a quiet voice. The other Mages shuffled in their seats as the seventh Mage raised his head. He was the only mage who had not removed his hood, and the firelight did not seem to quite reach him.

“We must investigate the stranger herself,” the Mage of Shadows whispered, his voice carrying across the room. Zelda’s skin prickled. The Mage was a man of mystery, content to do nothing but what his own will dictated. He was powerful, frighteningly so, and had knowledge of dark magics Zelda had once thought forgotten. Forgotten, and forbidden, with good reason.

“How would you suggest we do that?” Zelda asked. The Mage of Shadows was directly across from her, the firelight shielding him from her sight. She hoped the same was true for him. But then the fire flickered, and the flames lowered. The hood came into view, two tiny pinpricks of light glinting in the depths of the hood.

“In time, we shall speak with her,” the Mage of Shadows said. “We shall find from her what we need to know.”

“We need to know how to send her back to where she came from,” Zelda said. “I don’t care for anything else. The prophecy-“

“Is a prophecy,” the Mage of Shadows said. “We cannot send her back until we know where she has come from.”

“We will try to find this out,” Zelda said.

“And if we cannot?”

Zelda said nothing. The silence billowed around the room like smoke, stretching an uncomfortably long time. Then, like a snake rustling over dry leaves, the Mage of Shadows spoke again.

“There is another way,” he said. “To rid you of this problem.”

“I am listening,” Zelda said.

From the depths of his cowl, she fancied she saw the hint of a smile.

“I could create a portal that sends her elsewhere,” he said, his voice so soft that Zelda would have missed it, were it not for the silence of the room. “Anywhere, elsewhere.”

Zelda sat very still, the idea running around in her head. Anywhere else. Anywhere but Hyrule. Surely, surely that would save them. The darkness would follow wherever the woman went. Anywhere but Hyrule. Anywhere but home.

“I cannot,” she said, her voice surprising her. “I cannot send her somewhere else, when that could mean another realm suffers darkness.”

The Mage of Shadows nodded slowly.

“And if we cannot find a way to send her home?”

Zelda grimaced. “I do not know.”

“We should at least consider it,” the Mage of Elements offered. “If no other solution can be found.”

Zelda sighed. “Very well. But only if there is no other way. We must keep Hyrule safe.”

The Mage of Shadows remained still as the silence stretched, and then, he rose, as silently as a curl of smoke.

“I will begin my plans,” he said. “Mages, I will give you your tasks shortly. Good day, Princess.”

The fire flared, and when it died back down, the Mage of Shadows was gone.

“Arrogant whatsit,” the Mage of Nature said, shaking her head. “With your leave, Princess, I’ll go and investigate the lake with the Mage of Elements again. I’m sure we’ll find something to get this young lady home.”

“Thank you,” Zelda said.

She rose and swept from the chambers, Impa by her side. She allowed her feet to decide the direction, lost in her own mind.

She passed courtiers and nobles, her head bobbing automatically to acknowledge their bows and curtsies. She kept her head high, her shoulders straight, and her steps small and neat, but her frustration was boiling inside her, and she clenched her fists. She ducked into a side room, Impa at her heels, and closed the door. The room was dim and dusty, the scattered furniture covered with white sheets.

“I do not know what to do,” she said, before her aide even opened her mouth to speak. “Link’s reports show me nothing new, and I grow ever weary of his… his… fanciful telling of his days spent with this stranger.”

“He has seemingly grown fond of her,” Impa agreed.

“I do not want him to be _fond_ of her,” Zelda said, striding up and down. “I want him to tell me more about who she is! Not descriptions of how she is improving with her weaponry, or her affinity for the castle’s animals, nor reading books with a speed even I cannot!”

“He did not say that, Zelda,” Impa said, gently.

“He may as well have,” Zelda replied, curtly. “I care not for their outings to Castle Town, or silly conversations about what flowers mean. He has told me nothing new of her memories for days!”

“Perhaps she has not remembered anything new.”

“She needs to,” Zelda replied. “Anything she can give us can help send her home, away from here. We need to get her out of Hyrule.”

“The Mage of Shadows offered a solution,” Impa said, softly.

Zelda slowed her pace and ran a hand over her hair, feeling the intricate plaits and golden beads Impa had woven that morning.

“It is not ideal,” she said. “I am loath to send her anywhere but back to her place of origin. Not only would it be cruel, but it may bring darkness down upon some other poor world.”

Zelda took a long, steadying breath. “No. we will keep to our plan, and hope that the Mages find something of use, or Thoria remembers enough for us to locate her homeland. And we must pray to Hylia and the Three that she does not do us wrong in the meantime.”

She sank into a covered chair. The old wood creaked as it took her weight.

“There is something else on your mind,” Impa said. “Tell me.”

Zelda sighed. “Lord Dool’s letters are becoming more demanding. It would seem he is growing weary of my… lack of commitment.”

“You are still meeting with your suitors,” Impa responded. “You told him this. That man has neither the patience nor the wit to rule by your side.”

“But he has the forces and the money,” Zelda said. She lowered her head into her hands. “To support us or to fight us. I worry that he will turn to violence if I do not agree to marry him.”

“I have already sent Sheikah into his hold,” Impa said. “They report back to me daily. If we discover any threat, even a hint of treason…”

“I will burn his hold to the ground,” Zelda said.


	29. 29 - Navi

Navi lit lightly on the roof of Hyrule Castle as the sun beamed above, the portal blinking out of existence behind her. She took a moment to enjoy the feel of the sun on her face, warming her skin and sending energy through her wings. There wasn’t really sun in the fae realm, it was a land steeped in a purplish bluey-pink light, the sort of light one saw in the minutes before the sun sank below the horizon and twilight came. There was no real source, either, it just was.

The whole realm was soaked through with magical energy. It was in the air, in the ground, in the water, and Navi had felt the unbridled energy wash through her as she entered, relaxing her muscles and clearing her mind. Here, in Hyrule, the sunlight gave her energy. If she didn’t have that, she had to eat. Though she didn’t need the excuse, Hylian food was utterly delectable.

But Navi sighed. Though her journey home had strengthened her weary bones, and she had delighted in the company of many old friends, she had not found what she had been looking for. She had searched high and low, rifling through old, mythical scripts and quizzing the elders with ferocity, but no answer came forth.

She had not found a way to change herself. She knew that, if Link was going to love her for who she was, if she was going to be able to save him from the stranger’s odd power over him, she would have to grow, to become as big as any Hylian. Only then would she be able to look Link in the eye and show him true beauty, and her magic would protect him from the stranger.

But her hopes had been dashed. Morose, she fluttered into the air and went in search of her Hero, following her instincts. As she expected, she found him in the Library. She wrinkled her nose. She did not know how long she had been gone for, but he was sitting next to the stranger on the sofa instead of his customary armchair, as she excitedly pointed out something in the pages of the book on her lap. On the table were hand drawn copies of the castle’s blueprints, with red circles and crosses scrawled over the black ink. Navi frowned. What was this stranger planning now?

“…from what I remember of home, this is almost similar! The constellations are different, of course, but judging from what your astrologers have written here, what has been observed beyond the sky is very much the same. Light takes the same amount of time to reach you here from your sun, or star, and-“

“Aren’t suns and stars different?” Link asked, his head to one side. He was very close to the stranger. So close, indeed, that their shoulders were touching. As he leaned in to look more closely at the book, their faces came too close to be proper.

“Here? Not a scooby, but if it’s like home, then they are the same thing. The stars are just billions and billions of light years away, which is why they look so small. My sun is fucking enormous, but it’s still billions of miles away, but close enough to provide life, like yours.”

“Do you think our worlds are connected, then?”

The stranger shrugged. “I honestly don’t know. It would be nice to think that they are, however, with the prevalence of magic here, and none at home, I doubt-“

Navi lit on the table and coughed, delicately.

“Navi!” Link said, sitting up, a smile breaking across his face. “Where have you been?”

“Home,” Navi said, studiously ignoring the stranger, who was smiling stupidly at her. “I… had word that a friend of mine had taken ill.”

Link made a concerned face. “Are they alright?”

“Oh yes,” Navi said, the lie coming easily. “They’ve recovered well, thank you. But I had to go quickly, just in case…”

“I understand,” Link said. “But you’ve been gone nearly three weeks. I was worried.”

Navi allowed herself to smile. “You’re so thoughtful, and you know I wouldn’t have meant to have gone for so long. But I’m back now.” She cast a quick glance at the stranger, whose smile had dimmed to something of a disbelieving smirk, with one eyebrow slightly quirked. Navi sniffed and looked back to Link. “I won’t leave your side again, don’t worry.”

To prove her point, she fluttered off the table to his shoulder, taking hold of his earring and settling down, snuggling against his cheek. She noticed with some irritation that he had forgone shaving again that morning, and his cheek was bristly with dark stubble. But he turned his head to her, the soft tilt of his jaw that was the closest thing he could manage for an embrace. Navi reached out and stretched her arms across his cheek, nuzzling her face into him.

“I’m sorry I was gone for so long,” she said, holding tight. “I won’t go again.”

“It’s okay,” he murmured, and Navi smiled, knowing the stranger couldn’t hear their private talk. “You needed to.”

Navi held on until Link raised his head a moment later, turning as the stranger said something. He laughed, and Navi frowned. She snuggled more deeply into his collar, breathing in his scent that she had so missed in the fae realm. Though her plan had failed, and the magic she sought either did not exist or was lost, she would find a way to protect him. She just had to figure out how.

At the other end of the sofa, the stranger stretched.

“You know what, I’m exhausted,” she said. “That training really took it out of me earlier.”

“You worked really hard,” Link said. “I’m tired too.”

“I might have a nap,” she said, absently, rising and standing in front of them. “Head back to my room, sleep for an hour or two. Gives you two time to catch up, at any rate.” She smiled at Navi, who did not return it. She glared at the stranger. What ploy was she coming up with now?

“I’ll walk you back,” Link said, somewhat unnecessarily. He rose, and they left the Library, heading to Thoria’s room. They passed through the corridors, past the suits of armour, past the statue of Hylia that was at the other end of the corridor to the stranger’s quarters, and they were there.

“Give me a holler in a couple hours,” the stranger said, giving an exaggerated yawn. “In time for dinner. Worked up a bit of an appetite, too, I think.”

“Sure,” Link said, smiling. And to Navi’s horror, he stepped close to the stranger, pulling her into a tight hug. For a second, they were pressed together, and Navi was so close that she could almost feel the stranger’s pulse, fluttering in time with her Hero’s. But then they stepped apart, the stranger waved, and disappeared inside her room.

Link turned and walked back along the corridor, heading for the stairs that would take them back to their rooms. Navi sat on his shoulder, stunned at what she had seen. She glanced up at Link and found him smiling. She worked her jaw and recovered her voice.

“How long has that been going on, then?” she asked, with more bite in her tone than she intended.

“Hm? What?” Link asked distractedly, concentrating on the stairs.

“That! You… embracing that woman!”

“It was just a hug,” Link said.

“How long?” Navi demanded.

Link sighed explosively. “Does it matter?”

Navi glared up at him. All traces of happiness at her return seemed to have vanished in the minute they had spent alone. What magics was this witch working on her Hero?

“Yes,” she said. “I go away for a few weeks and you start courting her!”

“I am not courting anyone!” Link snapped, startling a passing pair of servants. Link gave them a tight smile and shouldered his way into their rooms. Navi flew off his shoulder and fluttered in front of him.

“You’re meant to be guarding her,” Navi reminded him. In her mind, she could see them. The smiles, the laughter, his hand on her elbow in the market, on her back. Something burned hot and sick in her stomach. “Not befriending her. She is dangerous!”

Link glared, his eyes more lupine than Navi had seen them in a long time. “I have spent over a month with Thoria,” he said, his voice a forced calm. “And she has shown no hint of any danger or aggression or ill will towards us whatsoever. You can ask Zelda.”

“I will,” Navi said, folding her arms. “I’ll see what she has to say about this intimacy that you’ve got going on.”

Link bared his teeth. “We are _not_ intimate. What the fuck has gotten into you lately? You’ve never been so hostile.”

“And you never swear like that!” Navi gasped. “Can’t you see what she’s doing to you? I’m worried about you, Link. You’ve never got so angry with me before over nothing, you-“

“It’s not nothing,” Link said. “You’re being horrible to Thoria for no reason.”

“I’m looking out for you!” Navi shrieked. “You’re the only one who can’t see how danger-“

“Enough!” Link snapped. He put his head in his hands and rubbed his temples. “Din save me Navi, I’ve got enough on my plate without you trying to start trouble where there is none.”

Navi sniffed, her eyes welling. “I thought you missed me.”

“So did I,” Link said, the words cutting through her like a knife. As he said them, Link blinked, guilt sweeping over his face. “Navi, I didn’t-“

“Don’t,” she said. “I can see you don’t want me here right now. I’ll go.” She drew herself up and flew past him.

“For the love of Hylia,” Link said. “Just wait a minute, would you!”

Navi paused at the door and looked back, hopefully. Link shook his head and took a breath.

“I did miss you. Of course I did. But I can’t cope with this constant attitude about Thoria when she has done nothing to warrant it. If she was rude to you as well I might understand, but she’s been nothing but friendly. She’s trying really hard to fit in. Of course she’s different, she’s not from here, but that doesn’t make her dangerous. And trust me, I _am_ guarding her. I’m watching her. I’m reporting everything to Zelda. If there are any patterns I’ve missed, she’d pick them up.”

Navi sighed. “You are missing the signs, Link. You’re too close to this stranger.”

“Like what?” he said. “Tell me what I’ve missed, and I’ll act on it.”

He lowered himself to sit on the edge of his bed, palms together, elbows resting on his thighs. He looked up at her, waiting. Navi swallowed. What could she say to make him see? How could she put into words that he was under a spell? He must be. She cast her mind back for anything obvious the stranger had done.

“The… drawings of the castle,” Navi said. “She’s obviously plotting to take over, to see where the weak points in our defences are…”

She trailed off. Link was gazing at her impassively, his expression one of boredom, almost verging on contempt.

“Thoria has an interest in architecture,” he said. “Nothing more.”

Navi fumbled for something more convincing. But as before, the sneaky subtleness of the stranger’s wickedness could not be described. Link wouldn’t think that his behaviour around the stranger was odd. He was already convinced that her constant questions and desire to learn to fight was just her being a stranger in Hyrule and nothing more sinister. And anything else that could possibly be conceived as an insult towards the stranger would just make him angry again.

The silence grew.

“I just know,” Navi said. Even to her, the words were lame. “I’m a fairy. A being of magic. We know these things.”

Link smiled tightly. “I can’t arrest her because of a feeling, Navi.” He rose and unstrapped his sword from his back, and Navi was struck with inspiration.

“The Master Sword!” she squeaked. “That would tell you. She wouldn’t be able to touch it.”

“The Master Sword is at rest, as she should be,” Link said, not looking up. He produced a whetstone and unsheathed the blade, running the stone along the keen edge. The rasping sound filled the air.

“Yes, but if you-“

“I am not about to disturb the Sword on a fancy,” Link said, and his tone declared their conversation over. “Do you want to help me oil this?”

Navi knew a peace offering when it was shown to her. But the hot sickness was still burning inside her, and she saw them together again, and imagined them together, doing more than just hugging. She felt bile rise in her throat as tears pricked her eyes again.

“I want to see Zelda,” she said. “I need to speak with her about my time in the fae realm. I might not be back tonight.”

Link nodded, his eyes on the sword in his lap. “As you will.”

Navi hovered a moment more, hoping he would say or do something else. But his hand moved slowly along the sword’s edge, the whetstone rasping on the metal. He did not look up, and he did not speak. Blinking back tears, Navi left through the door panel Link had so thoughtfully installed just for her, feeling as though a part of her was lost, a part of her that was precious, and she did not know how to get it back.

Desolate, Navi headed for Zelda’s chambers. Finding the doors shut tight, she found an open window and flew out, the evening air still warm from the heat of the day. Inside the castle was almost always cool in the summer, but it was agonisingly cold during the winter.

Zelda’s balcony doors were flung wide, and the princess was sitting at her window, observing the countryside. Navi didn’t bother with an introduction, and simply plopped herself into the royal lap, making Zelda jump.

“Good evening Navi,” Zelda said. “Are you well?”

“No,” Navi mumbled.

“Pray tell me, what troubles you?”

“Link was hugging that woman earlier,” she said. “Not guarding her like he was meant to.”

She felt Zelda stiffen.

“What do you mean? Is he neglecting his duties? Leaving the stranger alone?”

“No,” Navi said. “He’s still guarding her. But he’s started hugging her. I think he likes her.”

The princess was quiet for a long minute. “I’m sure there is nothing to worry about, dear friend. I embrace my closest allies on occasion.”

“But she’s a weird, dangerous monster,” Navi grumbled. “Link needs to hurry up and get rid of her.”

Zelda sighed. “I understand. I too do not like that all his time is spent watching over her. But it is by my father’s command, and I cannot overrule him.”

“Link’s _your_ knight,” Navi said, folding her arms. “He needs to listen to you. Tell him to stop being so friendly with that woman.”

Zelda smiled softly. “I trust Link with my life, and with the lives of all of those in my kingdom. He will be adhering to his duties, this I know.”

“He’s getting too comfortable,” Navi groused. “Fix it.”

Zelda chuckled. “My mages are working on finding a way to send her back home. With fortune on our side, she will be out of our lives and back home before she can cause any trouble.”

Navi harrumphed and snuggled into Zelda’s dress, the silk soft against her skin. It wasn’t the answer she wanted, but it would do.


	30. 30 - Link

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Archive warnings apply

The sun was lowering in the sky, its light changing from white, to gold, to amber, finally casting ruby washes of colour across the copper marble floor of the library, reflecting off the polished sheen to splash against the wood shelves, making it seem as though the whole room was ablaze.

Link lounged on the sofa, idly turning the pages of the book in his lap. Over and over, his gaze was drawn back to Thoria, seated at the opposite end, her feet tucked neatly under herself as she poured over a book of her own, her hair still tousled from her nap. She had finally done away with her skirts for good, citing it too irritating to go to her rooms to change after each of her training sessions. Her trousers were as black as her hair, though her shirt was a light cream, her boots knee high and a fetching seal grey.

Since she arrived, Link guessed she must have read almost a hundred of the tomes lining the shelves. The Historia lay on the table next to them, her neatly copied blueprints curled into tubes beside it. Each time they came back, Thoria made a beeline for the Historia, and spent at least an hour fruitlessly attempting to decipher the ancient Hylian.

He smiled. She was determined, and he knew she wouldn’t give up. Her weaponry had improved even further, and during their training that morning, she had given the straw dummy such a clout with her spear that it had snapped in two. Her archery had improved as well, and she had insisted on competing against him in target practice. Though his skill far outstripped hers, he marvelled at how far she had come. Her swordsmanship still needed work, but this too had improved.

Their conversations had grown as well. Thoria was better able to converse in matters of Hyrule, of the history and politics and citizens. And slowly, slowly, her memory was coming back. Fragmented and broken, the threads were coming together. She now remembered street names, the name of the school that she attended, and hazy faces of people she once knew. The latter memory had stripped the smile from her face as though she had been slapped, and it had taken nearly two days of gentle conversation to coax her from her deep melancholy.

Link felt his gaze soften at the memory. If it meant Thoria could be spared the pain, a small part of him hoped she wouldn’t remember anything else quite so raw. He hadn’t bothered Zelda with the information. Piecemeal as it was, it would only serve to frustrate the princess, who kept him longer and longer in her chambers with each report, probing for more, and when each report was done, she began some other conversation, asking after him, his health, his wellbeing. She even spoke of her suitors, of her irritation at King Rhoam’s insistence that she wed. Link kept his silence as Zelda bemoaned the men she had met, finding fault with all of them. It was clear that none of them were suitable to rule alongside her, but Link declined to comment more than a sympathetic noise. It would be unwise for a farmhand to comment on the lord who may one day be his king.

Zelda was trusting him with her most intimate secrets, thoughts she only shared with Impa, and perhaps Navi. As her Chosen Knight, he did not know how to feel about her honesty. He had waited, later and later each night, his eyes growing heavy, uncomfortable as Zelda admitted her distaste for the complaints of the commons, described the extent of her father’s illness, and never took her eyes off him for more than a moment.

Link looked back down at his book. Though he didn’t say, he knew his exhaustion was showing. He barely scraped a couple of hours sleep each night, haunted by the dark alter and the shadows, plagued by visions of his past adventures, stalked by monsters in his sleep. His supply of sleeping potion had run out, and the potions master was nowhere to be found in town. Link found his movements slower, his reactions sluggish. His mind was not as sharp as it had been, and even his appetite was waning. Though his eyes itched to close, even after his brief sleep that afternoon, he could not help but raise them once more to the dark-haired woman across from him.

Thoria looked up, and saw him watching. She smiled, her eyes almost glowing in the evening sun.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, you?” Link put the book to one side and stretched, groaning.

“Mm,” Thoria replied, mimicking his stretch. She bent this way and that, demonstrating a flexibility that Link found himself inherently jealous of.

“Bit bored, to be honest,” she said, tucking her hair behind her ears.

“Of books? Surely not.”

“No, but I’ve been reading all afternoon, every afternoon, for ages,” she said. “I fancy doing something different.”

“Such as?”

“Not sure,” Thoria rose, and gathered her books. Link passed his over as she went, and she tucked them back on the shelves, the low heels of her boots clicking on the floor. Her attire suited her strangely well, each garment fitted to her frame. It was enough to emphasise her assets without being too revealing, and Link found it hard to look at her for too long before his mind drifted to thoughts he should not think. Though her attire drew disapproving glares from any noble she passed, she seemed more at ease, more comfortable than before.

She returned to the sofa as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the library into momentary darkness. Link’s heart lurched in the second before the magic lamps lit themselves, casting a warm glow over the room once more. Across from him, Thoria propped her feet on the low table and leaned her head back, eyes closed.

Link watched her, thinking.

“We could always do a round of the gardens,” he suggested. “Or go into town.”

“Nah. Maybe another night.”

“Raid the kitchens?”

“I’m still full from dinner. Hm.” Thoria’s eyes glinted as she looked up and over, her emerald eyes locked on his. Link knew that look. She had mischief on her mind. “Do the castle guards patrol at night?” she asked.

“They do,” Link said. “You can never be too careful.”

Thoria smiled, pressing her lips together, her eyes full of a wicked delight. “I have an idea,” she said.

Link put his head questioningly to one side. Thoria gave a wide, toothy grin.

“Let’s go exploring,” she said. “We’ll make a game of it. We’ll try to get from here to my rooms without being seen by anyone! And not just faking like we’re meant to be there, I mean really sneaking!”

Link almost laughed at the childlike glee on her face. “We’ve no chance, Thoria. The guards will catch us in minutes.”

“Oh, come on,” she said, standing and placing her book on the table. “It’ll be fun!” she took his hand and pulled him to his feet. She tugged, and led him to the door. She eased it open and poked her head out.

“No one,” she whispered, creeping into the corridor and pulling Link behind her.

“Come on,” Link said. “We’ll be caught in minutes. The security in Hyrule Castle is better than anywhere else in the kingdom.”

“Sure, sure,” Thoria said, slinking along, hugging the wall. Her hand was cool in his, and smooth. “We’ll just see about that.”

“I mean it,” Link said. “There’s no point.”

“Oh, okay,” Thoria said, straightening. “I guess that means you’re no good at this anymore.”

Link pulled up short. “What?”

“I mean,” Thoria released him and spread her hands. “In all your adventures, I don’t expect you’d have just gone charging in, yelling wordlessly and swinging your sword about all the time. You must have had to sneak about.”

“Yes, but-“

“So, if you don’t want to play along with me, it must mean you’re no good at that any more.” Thoria shrugged. “It’s cool.”

“I can sneak about,” Link huffed. “I’d be better at it than you, too.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. I’ve had more practice.”

“So, prove it,” Thoria said, grinning. Her eyes sparkled in the lamplight. “I bet you I’ll be better.”

Link grimaced. “Damn you. Fine. But let’s wait until it’s darker. No point sneaking around the castle when people are going to be crowding the corridors, going to bed.”

“Good point.” Thoria dipped back into the Library, holding the door for him. “Coming?”

XXXXXXX

As the moon neared its peak, Link followed Thoria out of the Library. The corridors were dark, only a few dim torches in brackets to light the way. He swallowed. The small, guttering flames cast shadows on the walls, and his heart began to race. _Why_ had he suggested they wait? How could he win this wager if he was distracted by half-buried fears?

Together, they began to creep along the corridor, eyes peeled for any signs of movement. The castle was eerily quiet and still, the only sounds their muffled footsteps and soft breaths. The silvery moonlight shone through the windows, illuminating patches of stone and carpet. Everything seemed to be in black and white, shades of grey casting the barest suggestion of what would be colour in the day.

“Walk on the balls of your feet,” Link whispered.

“Like this,” Thoria murmured. It was not a question. Link looked to her feet and saw her moving toe to heel. “Feels weird but you walk quieter without being on your toes all the time.”

Link adjusted his feet and found her to be correct. The movement was alien to him and soon, his calves were burning, but he resisted the urge to fall back into his old walking style. He would not be bested by Thoria at a game of sneaking.

“Which way’s best?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper as they went, huddling close to the walls.

“This way,” Link said, pointing. He took the lead, setting their pace. He strained his ears, listening for any sound other than their own. He glanced about the corridor. There were doors set in the stone walls, and he knew they could duck into any one of them if they had to. Most of the windows had drapes, drawn back and corded, but they could still use them as cover. Other than this, the corridor was bare, lit by the barest sliver of moonlight.

They reached the stairs without incident and moved down them silently, Thoria’s hand trailing the bannister. She was very close behind him, and when he stopped, certain that he heard voices, she placed her hand on his back to steady herself.

On they went along another floor, two shadows in the dark. As they moved, Link found a smile creeping onto his face. Against everything, he found that he was enjoying himself. The pretend thrill of illicit activity, creeping through some temple towards a goal, false enemies around a corner, but no true danger. It awoke within him an old, long-forgotten excitement, an eagerness bound to a time before his adventures, when he had a clear mind and no true understanding of the dangers that lay ahead. He grinned. One more corridor, and they would be there. He allowed himself to indulge in the warm feeling in his chest. A fleeting memory of innocence, of playing with childhood friends, of safety and-

“Shit,” Thoria whispered. Link looked behind them. Light was flickering at the end of the corridor, and growing. Around the corner, someone was coming. Link looked about. There was nothing to hide behind, the window curtainless. He sprang to the nearest door and tried the handle. Locked.

“Shit,” he echoed. Thoria whipped her head from side to side, eyes sweeping the corridor. They landed on a statue of Hylia in an alcove, leaning forwards, stone hands outstretched benevolently.

“Here,” she whispered, and darted to the statue. “There’s room!”

“Not for both of us!” Link hissed, following her.

“Just do it,” she said. “We’ll be caught otherwise!” she slipped behind the statue and out of sight. Link glanced at the end of the corridor again. The light had grown, and he could hear clanking footsteps. He whispered a curse, and wriggled behind the statue.

Hylia was taller than they were, and even bent slightly forwards, afforded them cover. But there was no room, Thoria was in the way.

“Behind me!” she urged. “Quickly!”

“I…” Link hesitated. The gap between her and the wall was very small. A murmur of voices reached his ears, and he placed on hand on the statue, sliding in behind Thoria. She raised her arms and crossed them over the statue’s shoulders, and Link copied her, placing his arms over her own. His face was in her hair, his hips against her behind, his chest against her back. He tried to slow his breathing as the guards walked down the corridor.

“…tavern wench,” one was saying. “Wouldn’t have thought it to look at her, but you get her under the sheets…”

“I’ll ask for her,” the other said. The pair of them sauntered slowly into view, tall and burly, like the lot of them. Peeking out from behind the statue, Link saw them. He ducked back as they slowed, and stopped.

“Look at this,” one said. Clanking footsteps towards the window. “Can barely see a thing. Archers have nothing to aim at here.”

“It’s shit,” said the other. “But if anyone came this way, shooting outside would be the last thing we’d be worrying about.”

The first one yawned. “Time is it?”

“I don’t know. An hour after midnight?”

“The first hour, you dolt.”

“Oi,” the voice was tiredly irate. “It’s how we say it at home.”

Behind the statue, Thoria shifted her weight slightly, her backside moving against him. Link suddenly became acutely aware of just what he was pressing against her. Something within him stirred, beginning to grow. He tried to move backwards, but the wall was in the way. He swallowed, and tried to ignore the fact that her hair smelled like a crisp autumn morning.

“Well, we say it proper here,” the guard was still talking.

“Proper- _ly_.”

“Oh, shut up.”

“You shut up. I’m too tired to talk about the _properly_ way to pronounce things.”

“By Hylia’s light…”

 _Just go!_ Link thought desperately. _Go, leave!_ But the guards did not go. They remained, bickering, just out of sight.

Very slowly, Thoria shifted her weight again, arching her back ever so slightly. Link drew a tiny, sharp breath. His heart was beating fast in his chest, pumping blood to exactly where he didn’t want it to go. Thoria stirred again, the tiniest movement. It sent a thrill through him and brought his half mast to full. He would have cursed, had they not been hiding.

The guards were still talking. Link risked a look, his small movement rubbing him against Thoria again. The pair were lounging by the window, one gazing out of it, the other studying his nails. Link ducked back behind the pillar and tried to concentrate on eradicating his hardening predicament. He bit his lip.

Thoria was very still now, save her chest, which expanded and contracted in slow, steady breaths. His face in her hair again, Link could feel the flutter of her pulse against his chin. Slow and steady, like her breathing. Perhaps she hadn’t noticed. Maybe she didn’t know he was fighting a losing battle in silence behind her. His breath trembled as he moved, imperceptibly, up, tilting his hips subtly forwards, and then back, as slowly as he could, trying to edge away.

It didn’t work. Link tried to focus on something, anything other than the dilemma that he was in. but intrusive thoughts forced their way into his mind, and he couldn’t help but imagine what it would be like to run his hands down Thoria’s arms, along her back, circling around her hips and sliding them into her trousers.

He shook himself mentally, but the thought didn’t go away. What would he find there? Would she be natural, of would she be artfully shorn into the styles of the tavern whores? Of course not. She was no whore. Perhaps she would be bare, in the Gerudo style, who shaved every curl of their body hair in an effort to survive the desert heat. Would she be smooth, as soft as silk? It seemed as though the desert sun was upon him now, burning his brow as he clenched his teeth to keep from moaning as Thoria shifted from one foot to the other, as slow as a red leaf floating to the ground on a frosty morning.

It was torture. Every move he made heightened his tension, pressing him against her. He could feel every curve, every cleft, every muscle through their clothes. He squeezed his eyes shut and held his breath. If he stayed, there was no guarantee he could stay quiet, let alone still. If he left, they would be caught, and Thoria would be disappointed. He wanted to move away, and he wanted to move against her. He tilted his hips again. He curled his fingers, and was surprised to find them intertwining with Thoria’s. She shifted, her spine stiffening in surprise. It was almost too much. Link laid his head back, teeth clenched, lips drawn back as he tried to hold on…

“…better get going,” one of the guards was saying. “We’ve dawdled enough.”

“Good, I have to piss.”

“You didn’t have to share that.”

With a groan and a clank of metal, the guards began to move away. A moment passed, then with a wriggle and a squirm, Thoria slipped out from behind the statue. Link flopped forwards, the warmth of her suddenly gone, though his tension remained. He gripped the cool stone of the statue, biting the inside of his cheek.

Thoria looked quickly up and down the corridor.

“Gone,” she whispered, poking her head back behind the statue. “Come on, we’re almost there.”

“Almost…” Link muttered, pulling a smile onto his face. He hesitated, knowing his problem would be very obvious if he moved now.

“Come on!” Thoria repeated, reaching out and taking his hand. “Let’s go!” She pulled at him, and Link reluctantly edged out from behind Hylia. Thoria did not look down, she kept her eyes on his. They were sparkling with mischief. She set off up the corridor at a trot, Link half a pace behind, still hard and breathless.

“That was awesome!” Thoria breathed. “I thought for sure we were going to be caught. I’ve rarely felt so alive.”

“Uh huh,” Link said, his mind elsewhere, trying desperately to look anywhere but her. Each step pulled the fabric of his trousers against him, keeping him uncomfortably close to the edge. He bit the inside of his cheek again, and dug his nails into his palm. But it did nothing to alleviate the pressure.

They rounded a bend and Thoria chuckled. Her door was there, between two others. She hurried to it, dragging Link behind her, as he was walking with an odd, skipping step.

“And you said we hadn’t a chance,” Thoria grinned as they reached her door. “I say we did. No one saw us. So much for your poncey security!”

“Yes, you were right, you win,” Link said. He clasped his hands in front of himself. Bathed in the moonlight streaming through the window, every curve of her form was highlighted in silver. Thoria smiled.

“I do win, don’t I?” she mused, running a thumb over her lip. “What do I get for winning?”

“I don’t know,” Link said, hurriedly. “I’ll have to think of something tomorrow.”

Thoria blinked.

“Oh, of course, it’s late,” she said, her brow creasing. “You must be exhausted. I’ll let you go.” She stepped forwards, arms outstretched for a hug. Link had a split second to decide. Disappoint her, or risk humiliating the both of them. But it was too late. His hands were on her back, her arms around his neck. For a moment, their cheeks pressed together, and their hips met. His lips brushed her neck. Link flinched, squeezed her tightly a second, and stepped back. Thoria waggled her fingers at him, and slipped into her room.

Link breathed. A close call, but he had avoided embarrassing them both. He put a hand on the wall to steady himself, to try and calm down. He thought of the streams and rolling hills of Hyrule Fields, he thought of mucking out Epona’s stable. He thought of crawling through a dark, narrow passage in a dungeon.

In all of his thoughts, Thoria was there, and in each of them, she somehow lost more clothing.

Link turned and sprinted down the corridor.

He flew up the steps and skidded to a halt outside his chambers. He prayed half a hundred prayers to Hylia and the Three that Navi was either not there, or sound asleep. Tugging the front of his tunic down, he eased the door open and slipped inside, making straight for the large bathroom. In there, he lit no candles. The light of the moon through the window was enough to see by. But he didn’t need to see.

One hand gripping the sink, he hunched forward, hurriedly undoing the drawstring of his trousers. Thoria filled his mind, her quick, easy smile, her glittering emerald eyes. Her curved hips, her large chest, her hair, her hands, her pale skin. In the darkness, he imagined her hands on him, her lips against his own, their skin hot against each other.

Link choked back a cry as his knees buckled, his hand covered in warm seed. He drew several deep breaths, eyes squeezed shut. It had been sudden, the relief exhausting. He stood a while, holding himself loosely, collecting his thoughts. After a time, he groped for a towel, and lowered himself to sit against the wall.

In the dark, he waited for his heart to slow. Confusion and guilt crept into his mind. Why had he felt like that? What was it about her that affected him so strongly? He placed his hand on his abdomen, where it still ached. It had been over a year. Not that he hadn’t tried, alone and with others. But since the alter he hadn’t been able to-

He shook his head and tried to think of something else as anxiety crept into the dark room with him. Unsuccessfully, he tried to imagine the green fields of Hyrule, fishing at the lake, sharing a mug of ale with the few friends he had made over the years. He gritted his teeth as his mind began to splinter, threatening to contort him into a huddled ball of terror on the ground.

Unbidden, a picture of Thoria swept into his mind. It was a simple flash of an image. She was bent over a book in the library, fascination on her face. Link seized the picture with the desperation of a drowning man. In his mind, his memory, she looked up, an unashamed, girlish grin on her face, her lips beginning to form the words “ _look what I found!_ ”

It was as though the sun had appeared from behind the clouds, and the fear in his heart lessened. Link stood, stretched, and slowly crept to his bed. He slid under the covers, and for the first time in an age, slipped into an unaided sleep.


	31. 31 - Zelda

_Fire_.

Fire was all around.

Choking black smoke boiled into the air, blanketing the sky in a sea of ink, peppered with stars made of embers flying into the night. From all around, the shrieks of panicking townsfolk pierced her ears, the screams of trapped people tore at her heart, imprisoned in their burning homes.

Castle Town was ablaze. All around, people ran, stumbling, falling, without direction. A few passed buckets of water to each other, throwing them to no effect on the raging conflagration.

Zelda watched as a shop, gutted by fire, collapsed in upon itself with a deafening crash, sending flames roaring into the air, a fountain of embers scattering on the wind. She raised a hand towards a home, as yet untouched by fire, her guards running towards it. There was someone inside, she knew. She could feel the dreadful heat all around her, the skin on the back of her hand singeing and crisping, though not yet burning. Her triforce glowed as her throat itched with the smoke.

She was searching for something. Something important that must be drawn out of the fires before it was too late. But she did not know what it was she searched for.

She could feel Link beside her, protecting her. She felt a warm hand on her shoulder as she watched the destruction grow, helpless and small amongst the annihilation of her people. He moved from her side, running as though in slow motion into a burning building, and he was swallowed by fire.

But there was still a weight on her shoulder. The hand grew cold, and she lifted her own hand to it, to rub warmth back into the fingers. But the fingers were long and slender, the palm narrow. From behind, a terrible voice whispered her name.

_Zelda._

She turned to see the stranger, taller than she, her hair a billowing tangle of flaming smoke, her eyes blazing with green fire, her smile too wide, showing too many teeth…

Zelda woke with a start. She lay on her side in her cavernous bed, her heart racing. Without moving her head, she stared about her dark bedroom, convinced she was about to see it burst into flames. The barest hint of smoke lingered on the edges of her memory, her mind not quite free of her nightmare. She took a breath, and touched each of her fingertips to her thumb, one after the other.

She repeated the movement until her heart began to slow. She took a soft, steadying breath, and then another, holding it for a moment before letting the air slide between her lips. Gingerly, she sat up, feeling her hair sticking to the nape of her neck. She pulled the covers up to her chin and huddled, her knees up to her chest.

The dream had felt so _real_. The fire, the smoke, the screaming of her people. She knew it was a foretelling. Her triforce had shown her so. She shivered, though her room was warm, her blankets thick.

Was this another part of the prophecy she had discovered amongst the ancient scrolls? Was this what the stranger was to cause? The burning of Castle Town, the slaughter of innocent people?

Was it only the beginning of the trouble she would bring?

Zelda sniffed in the dark. Visions and ancient scribblings were not enough to convict the stranger of any wrongdoing. Rhoam would demand more evidence. Hard proof. But there was none. If Link’s reports were anything to go by, Thoria was a charming, intelligent woman, gifted with both cleverness and strength. And beauty. Zelda wrinkled her nose. Thoria was indeed beautiful, with her pale skin and dark hair, her perfect curves and full lips. The way she carried herself spoke of a royal linage, but her crass attitude and foul mouth said otherwise.

Link liked her.

Zelda threw off her bedcovers and tiptoed to her window. Outside, the sky was cloudless, the half-moon shining silver in a bed of glittering stars. Below, the lines of rooftops and walls and battlements could be seen, the tiny, shining spots of moonlight reflected in the steel helmets of the guards patrolling the walls. It was as if she was seeing everything in reverse, where shadow had become light, contouring the edges of the world in liquid white.

There was no easy solution to the problem. Without hard evidence, she could not eradicate the threat she knew was there. If nothing else, Zelda was convinced the stranger held some dark power, even if she did not know it herself. She shuddered as she remembered meeting Thoria’s eyes in the Green Study, the thrill of dread that pierced her heart in that moment, the sound, solid _truth_ that the woman was pure, unadulterated evil. Navi knew it too, she could sense it as well.

But there was nothing that could be done. Link would know to act if Thoria showed a dark side. He would not hesitate.

He liked her.

Zelda spun away from the window, pacing her room. She would meet with her Hero tomorrow, she decided. He must be reminded of his duty. It was all too easy to become enamoured with someone, if you spent enough time with them. Yes. She would relieve him of his duty for one day, and one day only. Impa could guard the woman. Link would spend the day with her instead. His princess, whom he was sworn to protect, and obey.

Zelda sighed and sank onto her bed, her head bowed. Her fine bed robe was made of the softest cotton, stitched only at the waist to allow for free movement in the heat of summer. It was a pale pink in the daylight, but in the darkness, it looked white against her skin. she toyed with the hem of it, one half sliding off her leg to reveal the slender limb, almost tan against the light material.

Link would obey her, no matter the order. If she ordered him to distance himself from Thoria and adhere to his duties only, he would do it. If she forbade him from seeing her, setting the task of watching Thoria to some other guard, or even a squadron, he would never set eyes on her again. He would obey. He must. If she ordered him to kneel before her, as her knight, he would. If she summoned him, now, and ordered him to kneel and bow his head…

She shivered in the dark. Such thoughts were unbecoming of royalty. Though she had allowed herself to indulge many a dark and lonely night, she had bigger things to worry about. The pile of gifts from Lord Dool was ever growing in the corner, as was his impatience at her lack of proposal. Her skin crawled. She would sooner chop off her own finger than allow that man to rule beside her. But then, none of the men she had met truly filled her needs, both as a princess, and as a woman.

No. Link would be her first choice. His calm, measured manner, his care for all the citizens of Hyrule, his selfless acts of heroism that had saved the kingdom again and again, over the centuries. She knew in her heart that he would make a wise and just king, and that Hyrule would see a time of great peace and prosperity, if two sides of the triforce united and ruled as one.

But it was impossible. Mere wishful thinking. Her father would never allow such a union, no matter how well the kingdom would benefit. And it would not just be the kingdom. Zelda gave a small, sad sigh. He would make the perfect husband, for no man she had ever met, in this life or any of her former lives, fleeting though her memories were, was as handsome, or as kind as he. No man awoke such an animalistic hunger in her.

She rose from the bed and began to pace her room again. The embers of her dream still glowed on the edges of her mind, and she seized on them with fervour. What did it mean? Was it truly a vision of the future? Was the stranger truly set to bring Hyrule to its knees in a storm of fire and blood? Or was it her own mind, saturated with concern for her kingdom that conjured such frightful images whilst she slept?

She stared at the back of her hand. In the moonlight, the faint lines of her triforce were barely visible. She rubbed her thumb over it, willing the power to manifest and show her the way. It had been so strong, years ago, when she was but a child sitting the throne in her father’s stead. How it had guided her, showing her the right way to speak with the commons and nobles alike, how to listen and judge with a fair and gentle hand. But now, no more. Her power was but a shell of what it once was, and Zelda wondered, briefly, if the Twilit Princess had kept a part of her power for herself, either by accident, or on purpose.

Zelda shook her head and slid back into bed. Of course Midna wouldn’t have kept her power on purpose. The princess had suffered terribly in her life, and the holy power of light would cause her nothing but more trouble. She rolled onto her side and pulled herself along the bed until she could crawl back under the covers. Her mind clearer, she settled down, all traces of fear of her nightmare now gone. Her thoughts turned to Link once more, the corners of her mouth turning down as she imagined him with the stranger.

She would spend the day with Link tomorrow. He deserved a break from the stranger, and it would do him good to be reminded of his duties. He was loyal and just and good. She was overthinking things. They were friends. But friendship was not what she needed. He would learn.

And besides. Her own longing needed just a little fulfilling.


	32. 32 - Navi

Navi grumbled awake, shrugging off the leaves she had piled upon herself for warmth. She had slept poorly in the boughs of a royal tree, tossing and turning as the bark itched her delicate skin. She shook her head, combing her long, blue hair through with her fingers. The sun had not quite risen, and Link was surely still asleep. Groaning as her muscles cramped, Navi fluttered into the air, hoping her dishevelled state would elicit some sympathy from her distracted Hero.

Reaching his balcony, she found the windows open and Link already awake and dressed, fussing with his hair in the mirror. Navi flew to him and coughed delicately. Link started and whirled, his hand going to his back and grasping at the air, his sword still lying on the bed.

“Navi,” he said, relaxing. “Don’t sneak up on me like that.”

“I don’t make a lot of noise,” she said, peering at him. “You look like you slept well.”

“I did,” Link replied, his tone one of slight surprise. “Really well, actually.”

“That’s good,” Navi said, hovering in the air. She threw a quick glance at the mirror. Her hair was a little tangled still, and her shift had bark stains on it. She waited, watching her Hero as he turned his gaze back to the polished glass and fiddled with the collar of his tunic. Navi swished her shift and stretched, groaning as her muscles protested their uncomfortable night. She groaned a little louder when Link did not look up.

“I slept in a tree,” she said, testily.

“You did?” Link said, fastening the top lace of his collar and then undoing it again. “Why?”

 _Because I want you to worry about me,_ Navi thought. Instead, she remained silent. Link did not press the issue, leaving his collar and strapping on his leather greaves.

“I suppose you’ll be spending the day with _her_ again,” she said, after a long, silent minute. To her surprise, Link’s cheeks flooded with colour, and his fingers slipped on his greaves and one fell to the floor.

“I’m supposed to… my job.” He said, bending hurriedly and banging his head on the dresser. “Fucking hell!”

Navi gasped at his profanity, to stunned to even go to him as he clutched his forehead, swearing in a fluent stream.

“Ach, that’s going to bruise,” he said, rubbing his forehead and inspecting the damage in the mirror.

“Oh, leave the mirror alone!” Navi snapped. Link turned to her, a surprised frown on his face.

“I-“

“We never spend any time together,” Navi grumbled. “And now you-“

“Don’t start,” Link groaned. “I’m just doing my job.”

Before Navi could respond, a sharp rap came at the door. Link quirked his head to the side, the way he always did when something caught his attention, and approached, opening it.

Without was one of Zelda’s messengers, a sweet, young girl with blonde ringlets and shy, brown eyes. She looked up at Link for all of half a heartbeat before dropping her gaze and twisting her hands before her. Navi nodded. This was the sort of reverence her Hero deserved, not the arrogant nonchalance of _that_ woman.

“Hello,” Link said, as the girl shuffled her feet. “Can I help?”

“P-princess Zelda wishes for you to accompany her this day,” the girl said, staring at Link’s boots. Her eyes flicked up to his face and away again.

Link frowned. “What about Thoria?”

“Her Highness states that L-lady Impa will care for her today,” the girl replied.

Link pursed his lips and nodded. “Right. Where’s Zelda?”

“Her Highness will meet you in the entrance hall,” the girl said, still staring at the floor.

“Fine,” Link said. He stepped back, retrieving his sword and shield. “Thank you.”

The girl curtsied and rushed away, stumbling over her own feet before almost fleeing along the corridor.

“She’s sweet,” Navi observed. “A little shy, but she’ll make a fine messenger one day.”

“She did very well,” Link said, closing the door behind them. Navi fluttered to his shoulder and snuggled in, clinging to his earring.

“Nav, that hurts,” Link said, tilting his head away. Pouting, the fairy reluctantly released her grip on his earring and folded her arms, snuggling further down into his collar. His skin was warm, smelling of old forests and sunlit fields. She inhaled deeply. She refused to be angry. Not today. She felt a smile creep over her face.

A whole day without the stranger! A whole day just for them, and Zelda of course. But the princess was delightful company, and Link would have to be on his best behaviour. And, with the stranger being watched by Impa… Navi wriggled with glee. Impa would surely see through her ruse in moments. The princess may not have enough evidence yet, but Impa would be able to find something, and Zelda would not be able to ignore her Sheikah’s advice.

Link seemed to drag his feet the whole journey down to the entrance hall, taking almost twice as long as usual to reach the stairs.

“Come on, Zelda’s waiting!” Navi urged, pinching his cheek.

“She’s not,” Link said. “She’ll be caught up reading or writing or something. Without Impa, she’ll forget and be late. She always is.”

“Don’t be so rude,” Navi admonished, pinching harder. “The princess will never be late for you.”

Link let out a small bark of disbelieving laughter before pulling up short. Zelda was at the foot of the stairs in her riding gown, three soldiers standing guard close by. Her hair was loose about her head, held back only by an intricate braid woven around her hairline. Her lips were painted blossom pink, her eyes lined with a grey mascara that was so much more demure than the coal black the stranger seemed fond of.

“Princess,” Link said, and Navi was delighted to hear the apology in his voice. “I’m late, I-“

“Hush,” Zelda said, smiling warmly. “I have been here for only a moment. And I have only just sprung this upon you, I would not expect you to arrive any sooner than you have.”

“Um.”

“Thank you?” Navi whispered in his ear.

“I appreciate that,” Link said, descending the last few steps to her side. “What did you want to see me about?”

“I thought it would be pleasant to relieve you of your duties for today,” Zelda said, walking towards the door, Link at her side, two feet away, as was proper. “We haven’t gone riding together since… oh, I do not remember…”

Navi grinned, slyly. She knew very well that Zelda knew the exact date of her last ride with Link. She had talked of little the previous evening before Navi had left for her tree.

“You may leave us,” Zelda said to the guards, who bowed as one and retreated a respectful distance before turning their backs and marching away.

“You dismissed your guard?” Link asked, watching them go.

“You are all the protection I need, Ser Link,” she said, smiling once more at him. “Now, I propose we ride over to the Eldin Province. My council often speak of the joys of hunting, and I wish to kill something before the day is out.”

“Kill-“ Link let slip a surprised laugh. “Princess, you haven’t killed a thing since you helped me win against Ganon.”

“I technically did not kill even then,” Zelda said, her voice light as they stepped out into sunshine. “But my duties have left me somewhat… frustrated of late.”

As they approached the stables, a lackey led out Epona and Zelda’s magnificent white stallion, that stood a full two hands taller than Epona. His coat gleamed in the sunlight, so well-groomed that it positively hurt to look at. Epona looked almost shabby next to him, the grey hairs in her auburn coat rather pronounced.

Another lackey appeared, carrying a footstool. Zelda gracefully ascended into the saddle as Link heaved himself into Epona’s, patting the mare as she nickered and tried to nibble his boots. Zelda took her ivory bow, inlaid with gold filigree and a quiver of swan-fletched arrows from another servant, delicately affixing them to her back.

“I’ll let you lead,” Link said, “I can watch for danger better that way.”

“My Hero,” Zelda said, smiling at Link. He cleared his throat and focused on brushing a speck of dust from Epona’s mane. Zelda put her heels to her stallion and set the pace at a brisk trot, Link following, and rising to a canter as they neared the castle gates.

As they entered Hyrule Fields, Zelda leant over her stallion’s neck and urged him into a gallop, whooping like a child. Link cursed and bent low, pushing Epona forward as Navi clung to his collar, buffeted by the fierce wind. Epona’s legs were not as long, and soon, she began to fall behind.

“Princess!” Link called. “Slow down!”

“Can you not keep pace with me, Ser?” Zelda called back. “You must catch me if you wish to keep me!”

“What?” Link said. Cursing, he put his heels to Epona, who whinnied in protest, but drummed her hooves harder on the ground.

“Princess, monsters still stalk the land!” Link cried as Zelda continued to pull ahead. He swore. “It’s not safe!”

Navi swallowed. He was right. Zelda was gaining too much ground, her laughter reaching them over the thundering of hooves.

“She’s going to hurt herself if she keeps going at that speed,” she said.

“I know,” Link replied, through gritted teeth. “ _Why_ isn’t she listening to me?”

“Oh Link, she’s been cooped up in that castle for so long, she needs a little freedom,” Navi replied.

“Freedom’s nothing if you’re dead,” her Hero replied.

“She’s your princess, she doesn’t have to listen to you, you know. You need to listen to her. Now catch up to her.”

“I’m trying!” Link growled.

Zelda continued on, gaining even more ground. She was so far away, Navi could barely hear her laughter any more. Navi crawled into Link’s hat and clung to his hair, fervently hoping that Link would catch up. After all, that was what Zelda wanted. To test her Chosen Knight, for him to reach her, both of them breathless, her with laughter, he with relief. She would pull him from the saddle and they would tumble to the ground, cushioned in each other’s arms.

Navi chewed her lip. She hoped the princess would get her wish.


	33. 33 - Link

“Epona, come on,” Link urged, tapping the horse with his heels. Epona grunted, her breath coming in great pants, a sheen of sweat forming on her hide. They were approaching the Bridge of Eldin. The back of Link’s hand began to itch, and he remembered his joust with King Bulblin, all those years ago. As Zelda approached the bridge, her horses hooves clattering on the stone, he was hit with a dreadful premonition.

“ZELDA!” he roared. “STOP!”

With a whinny, Zelda reined in her stallion, but too late. A pair of bulblins appeared on the bridge’s ramparts, armed with bows and flaming arrows. They fired, causing the stallion to rear up, dislodging the princess from the saddle. She hit the ground with a yelp as the stallion brayed and bolted across the bridge.

Link swore, violently. He was still too far away. Unhooking his feet from the stirrups, he hoisted himself up, planting his feet firmly on the saddle.

“Keep going, Epona,” he said, as he gingerly rose, feeling the horse’s fluid rocking, seeing the ground rushing beneath him. If he fell, he would be killed, if he was lucky. Zelda shrieked ahead, and Link saw two more bulblins giving chase as she ran onto the bridge, holding her skirts, her bow forgotten on the ground.

Link swiftly drew his own bow, rising higher on the saddle, keeping his knees bent. He barely noticed Navi wriggle out from under his hat and fly to safety. He nocked and loosed and arrow, striking one of the bulblins on the ramparts. It fell with a squawk, and the other turned, firing a flaming arrow at Epona. It flew far off the mark, and Link returned fire, slaying his foe with a true shot between the eyes.

As Epona neared the bridge, Link dropped back into the saddle and slowed her pace, and not a moment too soon. Five more bulblins appeared, shaking spears and maces at the mare, who skidded to a halt and reared. Ahead, Zelda was halfway across the bridge, pursued by the two monsters. Link drew his sword and howled a wordless battle-cry, leaping from the saddle and slaying two of the creatures with one strike. He took a clout to his shield from a mace and pushed into it, knocking the bulblin off balance. With a kick, he sent it stumbling backwards and off the edge of the bridge.

Hooves sounded beside him. Epona leapt into the action, stamping and biting. She snatched a bulblin’s tunic in her teeth and tossed it off the bridge, and brayed loudly as the last slashed at her with its spear, drawing blood.

Link saw red. Roaring wordlessly, he bashed the creature in the face with the hilt of his sword, sending it reeling. In the same motion, he took off its head.

With no time to tend to Epona, he sprinted towards Zelda, who had come to a halt in the middle of the bridge, shoving at the approaching bulblins, shouting as they shepherded her towards the edge. She dodged, she slapped, and she kicked, but the bulblins were relentless, pushing her closer and closer to the lip of stone. Her hands seemed to spark as though she was trying and failing to cast a spell. With a cry, she dropped to her knees as she took a blow to the back of her leg, grasping at the ground. One of the bulblins kicked her hands, and the other put its boot on her hip, pushing her off the side.

Zelda screamed, clutching the stone, her feet swinging into empty space. Link ripped his shield from his arm and flung it like a discus, striking the nearest monster with a clang that rang through the canyon. The monster dropped like a stone, and his shield disappeared over the edge, lost.

The last Bulblin chittered in fear as it turned and saw the Hylian bearing down on it. It looked from princess to Hero, and made its choice. It stamped once more on Zelda’s fingers, and leapt over the edge of the bridge.

Link dropped his sword and hurled himself forward, skidding along the smooth stone as Zelda’s grip slipped, reaching for her as she let go with a wail of terror. He snatched for her hands, half his body over the lip of the bridge, and succeeded in grabbing her wrist. She jerked in the air, her free hand scrabbling at his glove.

Link gasped as the movement brought him forward over the edge, nothing for his boots to hook onto. Below, there was nothing. Nothing but empty space, and grey rock far, far below. The bodies of the slain bulblins were little more than red smudges the size of ants.

The world began to spin as Link felt himself sliding into empty air. He twisted, reaching as the pull of the earth grew stronger. His free hand caught the stone lip as he slid over, wrenching his shoulders as he came to a stop.

He hung there, his shoulders burning, Zelda screaming below him, his grip on her wrist and the bridge as hard as iron. He swung to the side and hooked his boot over the lip of the bridge, pulling until he could hold on with his leg as well as his hand. He clenched his teeth and heaved, pulling the princess up. Inch by inch, Zelda rose through the air, clawing at his wrist, his bicep, his tunic.

“Stay still!” Link panted. “We’ll both fall!”

“Get me up!” she screamed. “Get me up, get me up!”

“I’m trying,” he said, forcing calm into his voice. “But I can’t if you keep grabbing at me. I won’t let you go. Trust me.”

“Get me up!” she wailed, but she stopped snatching for him. Link heaved again, his muscles protesting, focusing his gaze on the sky, on the bridge, anything but the yawning chasm that lay below them. As Zelda passed his upside-down head, he spoke again.

“Reach for the bridge. Don’t grab. Pull yourself up. That’s it.”

Zelda clambered back onto solid ground, sobbing. As her weight left him, Link took the stone in both hands and wriggled back up. As soon as he was safe, he risked a look over the edge, and his stomach churned. Dizzy, he looked away, crawling to the centre of the bridge where Zelda was in heap, weeping. As soon as he was near, she flung herself into his arms.

“I thought I was going to die,” she cried, burying her face in his tunic. “You saved me. You always save me.”

Link held her gently, aware of her royalty, conscious of her need as another human being. He remained silent, controlling his breathing. He felt weak, and not just from exertion. What turned his muscles to water was not just what had happened, but what could have. If the princess of Hyrule had died under his care, it would be the ultimate catastrophe. To be such a useless knight that she had died would see his name scrubbed from history, save to damn him as a failure, as it should be. The punishment didn’t bear thinking about. The shame would be too much to bear. He fought off a shiver.

He had failed her anyway. Though she was alive, she had nearly died. He should have been faster, and stayed by her side no matter what. He was not fit to carry the Triforce of Courage, the holy relic that weighed heavy on his soul.

“Are you hurt?” he asked.

“A little,” she sniffed, raising her head at last. Her face was a blotchy mess, her mascara running down her cheeks in grey streaks, her nose red and wet. “My hands hurt where they stamped on me.”

“Let me look,” Link said, easing the gloves from her fingers. They were red and a little swollen. Gently, Link bent each one of her fingers, inspecting the damage. Zelda was quiet as he did so, and Link could feel her eyes on him.

“Nothing too serious,” he said. “From what I can see, anyway. You should get them looked at by the doctor.”

“I will,” she said, and sniffed, leaning back into him. She curled up and sighed, her face tilted towards his, gazing at him imploringly.

“We should get back,” Link said, as Epona approached. He turned as best he could. There was a thin line of red on her shoulder, but it was no longer bleeding. He breathed softly. It wasn’t serious. Navi hovered by the horse’s ear, observing.

“I was so afraid, Link,” Zelda said. “I thought I was going to die.”

“You were lucky,” Link said, and a dark anger began to growl inside him. He pushed it down, with difficulty. But he couldn’t help but say, “why didn’t you listen to me when I said slow down?”

“I hoped you would catch me,” Zelda said, rubbing her cheek on his chest. “You are my chosen knight. You are supposed to be by my side.”

Link gently pushed Zelda into a sitting position and clambered to his feet. His legs shook, but he rose as steadily as he could.

“I can’t be by your side if you run from me, Princess,” he said, not trying to hide the bite in his voice. “You’re right, you could have died. Hyrule needs you to rule, not to run headlong into danger.”

Zelda rubbed her eyes. “I just wanted you to chase me. I needed to see that you cared.”

Link threw his hands in the air. “Zelda, it’s my job to protect you! Of course I’m going to follow you.”

“Would you still, if I was not a princess?” she asked, in a small voice.

Link hesitated. “I don’t… understand your implication, Highness,” he said, cautiously.

Zelda said nothing. She clambered to her feet, accepting the hand Link offered her. She leaned heavily on him as they turned to Epona.

“Oh, she is hurt,” Zelda said, and began to cry again. “Why is it always the innocents who are harmed by my foolish choices?”

“She’s fine, aren’t you girl?” Link said, using the excuse to move to the horse and pat her side. Epona nickered and nibbled his tunic. “But she won’t be able to carry us both. You ride, I’ll walk.”

“My horse,” Zelda said, looking back. “Where is my horse?”

“Din if I know,” Link muttered under his breath. He pulled a smile onto his face. “I’ll find him.”

“No, don’t leave me!” Zelda said. She tripped forwards and clutched his tunic, holding herself close once more. “I could not bear it!”

“Then we will send out a search party once we return,” Link said. “Please, Princess, we need to get back.”

“He won’t survive on his own,” Zelda mewled. “He is not strong, like Epona.”

“He’ll be fine.” Link bit back his frustration. “Navi, would you?”

Without hesitating, the fairy flew to the princess and lit on her shoulder, murmuring soft words in her ear. Link led Epona to a chunk of stone and helped Zelda into the saddle. Taking the reins, he began the long walk back to the castle.

An hour passed in silence, Link’s head full of dark thoughts. Over and over, he replayed the scene. The arrows flying through the air, the princess flung from the saddle. Fleeing on foot, pursued by monsters, her Chosen Knight too slow and too stupid to get to her in time. His stomach lurched each time he saw her slip off the side of the bridge, his heart racing in his chest. He almost failed. He _did_ fail. He was useless. Useless and broken and pathetic. In his mind, a cold, cruel laugh echoed. A memory of a dark temple and a dark alter.

The sun bore down on them, relentless in an azure sky. Though the ancient tunic he wore breathed like the finest cotton, Link soon found himself uncomfortably warm. He relished it. He deserved it for his failure. He deserved worse.

The sun was almost at its peak before Zelda spoke.

“I do not want to return to the castle in this state,” she said. “I am filthy and dishevelled. The nobles will talk.”

Link let out a breath he did not know he had been holding. “That they would, Highness.” _They’ll talk about me, about how I failed in my duties again. How I’m not meant to be here. And I’m not. I’m a failure I’m a failure I’m a-_

“I do not want word getting back to Father,” Zelda was still speaking. “He will be disappointed in me. He will call me foolish. I only wished to alleviate the boredom of court life.”

“I understand,” Link said. “There’s a small stream just over this hill. You can wash your face and get the worst of the dirt off your dress.”

“Cold stream water?” Zelda scoffed. “What a chore.”

Link rolled his eyes. “It never did me any harm,” he sniped.

“I suppose Thoria is used to bathing in streams,” Zelda said. To Link, the question seemed pointed.

“I wouldn’t know,” he said. “We have never discussed her bathing habits.” As he said this, he could not help but imagine the beautiful, dark-haired woman in a stream, her hair a cascade of ink, water pooling at her waist. He felt his cheeks flood with colour.

“I see,” Zelda said, as Link tugged the front of his tunic down. “What do you discuss, Ser Link? Your reports are less detailed of late than they used to be.”

“Nothing of consequence,” Link replied, distracted. The naked Thoria would not leave his mind’s eye. Zelda’s silence was loud, and he struggled for words.

“The weather, court politics, her weaponry, food.” He said. “We ask how the other is, discuss the books she has read, talk about Hyrule’s history. Things like that.”

“Navi tells me you have taken to… embracing her,” Zelda said, in a voice of forced calm. Link shot a look to the fairy, who quickly hid herself in the princess’s hair.

“She does, does she?” Link replied.

“Have you?”

“I… well. A friendly hug now and again,” Link admitted. “It’s common where she’s from. It makes her feel more at home.”

“I see.”

They reached the stream and Link helped Zelda dismount. She knelt at the edge and splashed water over her face. Link cupped water and drank, the cool soothing his dry throat. As Zelda ineffectively scrubbed at the dirt on her dress, Link waited a respectful distance away until she was satisfied.

“I must ask you to be honest with me, Ser Link,” she said, returning to his side. “What are your… feelings for this stranger?”

The memories of the night before came flooding back. Pressed against Thoria in a tight space, the thrill of the danger, the guards barely two metres away. The autumn smell of her hair, the muscles in her back. The tightness of his chest, the way his heart had beat so hard against his ribs, the warmth of her body against his. His burning desire, almost a desperation for her.

“Nothing, your Highness,” Link said. “I am watching her under your Father’s command.”

Zelda nodded. “I understand if you are… friendly, with this woman. It is only natural to spend time with someone and find yourself in a… friendship. But, Ser Link. I feel I must remind you. You are _my_ Chosen Knight. You are not to wed without seeking my permission first.”

“Wed?” Link took a step back. “Your Highness, I have no intention of taking a wife.”

“I should hope not,” Zelda said, primly. “I am your princess, you my knight. I am the most important woman in your life. You must not forget your duty. This stranger may be the harbinger of doom for Hyrule, and we cannot afford to dally about and miss the signs if they show themselves.”

Link bowed, deeply. “As you command.”

Zelda watched him carefully. “I would ask that you put some distance between yourself and this stranger,” she said. “Adhere to your duties, and be cordial. She must not think anything is amiss. But you _have_ a duty, Ser, to protect the realm. I would see that you perform it to the best of your ability.”

Link did not reply this time, but he gave a single, deliberate nod. He kept his face expressionless. Satisfied, Zelda remounted Epona.

As they made their way back to the castle once more, Link was silent. He could feel Navi’s smugness radiating from beneath Zelda’s hair, and knew he would not hear the end of it.

He _had_ grown close to Thoria this past month. This, he could not deny. But Zelda was right. The prophecy stated a dark stranger would come to Hyrule and rain destruction on them all. He had to watch Thoria carefully, and not forget his duty. He had already failed too often to risk endangering the kingdom. His adventures had been won by the skin of his teeth in almost all instances, and that had been when he was young, well rested and sharp of mind. He could not afford to relax and miss anything.

But the thought of Thoria being evil was beyond him. He could not envisage the mischievous, unique woman as another Ganon. But was Navi right? Was Thoria truly dangerous? He wracked his brain, trying to think of anything he could have missed. The jokes she told, the hours in the library, soaking up all the information she could. Using this information to converse with noble and servant alike with great skill, trying to fit in.

The long silences when she pretended to read, her eyes distant and full of longing. The excitement mingled with sadness when she remembered something of her past. Her determination. Her charm, her wit, her beauty. Link sighed and shook his head. Whatever he was feeling, lusting after Thoria would get them nowhere. She was perfect in every way, whereas he… he was just a failure. If he pursued her it would end the same way it had every time before.

The illusion that he was anything other than a broken husk of a man would be destroyed, and she would look upon him with scorn. Or worse, with pity.

With the midday sun high in the sky, Link escorted the princess of Hyrule back to her castle, the light above failing to penetrate the darkness of his mind.


	34. 34 - Zelda

Alone in her chambers, Zelda finally allowed her armour to fall. She sank onto one of the plush, pale pink sofas and trembled, her skin prickling.

It had all been so different in her head. Link would chase her across Hyrule, both of them laughing. She would slow as they reached somewhere secluded, and allow him to catch her. His relief as he finally caught up would overcome his propriety, and he would hold her. They would lunch in the shade of a tree, or in a hidden crevasse of rock, and she would feed him sweet strawberries and cream. At last, she would hold the final one between her lips and offer it to him like that. They would kiss for the first time, hidden from view.

It had all gone so horribly wrong. How could she have known there were still monsters this close to the castle? She had thought them all slain or banished following the end of the Moblin Rebellion, save for small pockets hidden away nowhere worth bothering about.

It must be the prophecy. Zelda nodded and clutched her arms, trying not to think of the bridge. Yes, that was why they were there. The darkness that was foretold was already coming, with monsters springing up where once there were none. She stifled a gasp as her feet swung into empty air again, her fingers clutching the stone. The futility of it. The sudden pull of the earth as she came to the dreadful realisation of just what it meant to have weight. The inexorable tugging of death that awaited below, too weak to pull herself up, her magic too feeble to aid her.

And then Link was there, saving her life. His iron grip on her wrist, so sure and strong, and she knew she was saved. Though it had nearly cost him his life, he had prevailed once more.

And how had she rewarded him? She had probed for her own selfish reasons about the stranger, demanding he keep his distance. She had not even asked after his own wellbeing. She sighed. She had tried. She had tried to show him on the bridge. All he had to do was bend his head and kiss her. The threat of death, the relief of safety, she knew this was one of the most potent aphrodisiacs known to man. It was why so many of her soldiers frequented the brothels after a battle. It had certainly worked for her. But he had denied her. Nay, it seemed as though he did not even realise. Was he immune to such things?

He must be. He was so pure, the carrier of the holy Triforce of Courage. Perhaps, if she had her way, it would be a new experience for them both…

The door to her chambers banged open, making her jump. Impa exploded into the room in a whirl of cloak and silver hair.

“Zelda,” she said, flying forward. “Are you alright?”

Zelda managed to nod, before her emotions overwhelmed her and she began to sob. Impa sat beside her on the sofa and enfolded her in a strong embrace, the embrace that she so desperately needed.

“It was my f-fault!” she managed to cry into Impa’s shoulder. “I was s-so stupid!”

“It was not,” Impa said, stroking the back of her head. “Your knight should have been by your side.”

“He was,” Zelda moaned, as Impa began to rock her back and forth. “I was going too fast. I did not know monsters would be there. I wanted… I thought…”

“Hush,” Impa said. “You are safe now.”

“Link saved me,” Zelda murmured, her cries beginning to subside. “Without him, I would be dead. I am alive only because of him.”

Impa stiffened. “Zelda, he failed in his duty once again. Had he been by your side, you never would have been-“

“It was MY fault!” Zelda snapped, pushing Impa away. She rubbed her face. “I was the one riding too fast, I was the one who did not listen when he called me back. What else could he have done? Fired an arrow into my steed? Grown wings and flown to me?”

Impa watched her impassively through her tirade, then raised a hand and wiped a tear tenderly from her cheek.

“If it meant your safety, I would expect no less of him,” she said, softly. “But, I think you wanted him to save you.”

“I-“ Zelda stopped, wrongfooted. “I do not understand? Do you imply that I deliberately put myself in mortal peril?”

Impa shook her head. “I do not believe you would have done so if you knew the bulblins were there. But your recklessness today, and your feelings for Ser Link-“

Zelda froze. “I don’t-“

“Zelda.” Impa pressed a finger to her lips. It was long and strong and cool. “You are in love with the boy. You say his name some nights.”

Zelda felt her cheeks colour. “I-“

“You want him to save you from your marriage-to-be,” Impa continued. “I understand your love for him. He may be foolish, but you two have been through much together.”

Zelda bowed her head. “Father would never let me.”

“You are correct,” Impa said. “You ought to put these thoughts out of your head, sweet one.”

“I know,” Zelda sighed. “Tell me, Impa. His reports on the stranger have given me little of late. What did you discover?”

Impa swept a hand over her hair. “The time I spent with Thoria was utterly dull. When I refused to cross sparring-swords with her we spent the entire morning in the library. Link must be out of his mind with boredom, she does not speak much other than constant questions, which dried when she realised I would not provide her with detailed answers. She speaks little of herself.”

Zelda shook her head. “He is a good man to endure such boredom,” she said.

Impa said nothing for a long time. Zelda relaxed back into her embrace, her fingers throbbing under the bandages the doctor had wrapped them in, the salve working its way into her skin. By morning, she would be good as new, though she could not say the same for her mind.

“Perhaps I will take a day off tomorrow,” she said, into Impa’s chest. “It will do me good to walk the gardens, to read, and rest.”

“At last, you see sense,” Impa said, a hint of playfulness in her tone. “I have already made arrangements that your duties will be suspended for the day.”

Zelda nodded. Her mind drifted back to Link, and how his chest felt so very different from the one she was leaning against now. His was strong and almost solid, a wall of powerful muscle.

“I should remind you, Zelda,” Impa said, softly. “Ser Link’s actions today must have consequences.”

Zelda stiffened. “He saved me.”

“And yet, you were in mortal peril. His foolishness almost cost the kingdom its heir. I would not trouble the king with this,” Impa stroked the back of her head. “But you must decide. For now, you must rest.”

Impa rose, lifting the princess from the sofa and carrying her to her bedroom. Once there, Impa began to unlace her riding dress, helping her out of the garment.

“A bath,” Zelda said, absently. Impa nodded, and disappeared into her bathroom. Zelda struggled out of her underdress as the sounds of running water filled the air. She tugged on her silken robe and limped through, sinking into the steaming tub as Impa produced a brush and began to slide it through her hair.

“Tell me more of your morning with the stranger,” Zelda said, the water lapping at her shoulders.

“There is little to tell,” Impa said, the brush hushing through her hair. “She seemed surprised to see me and not Ser Link at her door. She asked me a lot of questions about the Sheikah over breakfast. The woman eats a lot.”

“What did you tell her?”

“I gave her a preliminary overview of our history, nothing more,” Impa continued to brush Zelda’s hair. “I made sure to mention our undying loyalty to the Royal Family.”

“That is good. What else?” Zelda let her eyes flutter closed as the brush gently smoothed her hair. Her shoulders began to relax.

“As I have said, she requested we train in the yard,” Impa said, a note of disapproval in her voice. “I denied her. I have no patience for sparring with the unskilled, though she did try to convince me. I will admit, she is… observant. When I gave her nothing on the Sheikah she resorted to watching me most carefully.” Impa paused, and Zelda could sense the other woman’s glare. “I will grant her this. By the time we had walked from the Great Hall to the Library, she could imitate my steps almost perfectly. She walked almost without sound.”

Zelda popped a few bubbles, troubled. “And then?”

“We went to the Library, where she read until Ser Link arrived to inform me of your morning. I left immediately,” Impa said, picked up a pitcher and sluiced warm water over Zelda’s hair.

“What can you tell me of… their reaction to seeing each other?” Zelda asked.

Impa hesitated. Zelda became alert instantly. Impa never hesitated.

“I must apologise, Princess,” Impa said, quietly. “I found myself consumed by concern for you, and I did not pay them any more attention.”

“That is understandable,” Zelda said, sinking back. She allowed the disappointment to wash over her. Impa had given her nothing truly tangible. Yes, her imitating the Sheikah art of soundless steps was interesting, but it only meant she was a keen mimic. She did not possess the training or skill of the Sheikah, and as such, would not be a threat in that category. Or was she? Was her keen eye an indicator of some hidden skill, some dark power? Her head began to ache, and she drove the thought from her mind. She would consider the implications once she was rested.

“What of Navi’s concerns? That Thoria is dangerous?” she did not mention her own fears, nor the feeling of dread she had when meeting eyes with the woman in the Green Study.

“I did not get such a feeling,” Impa said. “My morning only confirmed what Ser Link has been reporting – that she has no memory of her previous life and is making… every effort to fit in.”

“I see.” Zelda closed her eyes, Impa’s fingers massaging her scalp. “I will have to wait for more information before I can act.”

“Do you believe she is evil?”

“I believe she will bring darkness to Hyrule,” Zelda said, and her mouth formed a hard line. Link had gone scarlet when speaking of the woman. He was hiding something, but he had been reminded. He would do his duty. “Whether she means to or not. She will be the cause of great peril for my Kingdom, and I mean to stop it before it begins.”


	35. 35 - Link

Link sat on the sofa, his head resting on the back of it, his eyes closed. He could feel Thoria perched next to him, feel her eyes on his face. He did not want to open his eyes and see her. He did not want to talk. Navi had left after a particularly barbed jab at Thoria, zooming away before Link could summon the energy to admonish her.

The silence bloomed.

His shoulders and back throbbed. He would be in pain tomorrow. His throat would be bruised from where Impa had thrown him against the bookshelf, demanding to know why he had allowed Zelda to come to harm. The Sheikah had dropped him the moment he rasped out that she had returned to her chambers, unharmed. He had fallen in a flurry of books as she sprinted from the library, and looked up to see Thoria approaching with a fire-poker held aloft, her eyes wide with alarm.

Now, they sat together, in silence. Each passing moment brought him closer to the punishment he was surely to endure, for allowing Zelda to be put at risk. He knew he should feel afraid, but he could not summon the energy. It would be more serious this time. Listlessly, he ran through a variety of torments he might have to endure. A public lashing would be out, they’d already done that. Would he be thrown in a cell? It wouldn’t be the first time he had endured being alone in a cold, damp place with nothing to eat but stale bread. Would he lose a hand? No. If he was to live, he would still serve Zelda as her Chosen Knight, and she would need him fully functional.

Death it must be, then. He sighed deeply. Rhoam would overrule any of his daughter’s protests. How long did he have? He had no affairs to be put in place. His possessions, the little he had, would no doubt be distributed among the court, or thrown out.

He would like to go back to Ordon. To see Colin, Beth, Rusl, Bo… Ilia. But that would be impossible. He would just have to settle for his last meeting with the villagers being positive. Aside from Ilia. But that couldn’t be helped.

And he wouldn’t see Thoria again.

He sat up with a start.

“Good morning,” Thoria said, smiling as he rubbed the back of his aching neck.

“It’s the afternoon,” Link replied.

“You looked like you were sleeping,” she said. “Morning to you.”

“I wasn’t.”

Thoria nodded. “’Kay. You alright?”

“Fine.”

“Liar.”

Link took a breath. She was so close her knee was almost touching his. He could smell the fresh autumn morning of her hair. The pine needles of her skin.

“Sounds like you had a really shit day,” Thoria said, softly.

“You could say that.”

“See what happens when I let you run off on your own?” she replied, punching him gently on the arm. Link smiled, despite himself.

“It was shit,” he said. He glanced over his shoulder. There was no one in the library other than them, and a scholar in one of the alcoves, too far away for their conversation to be overheard. “Zelda rode off and I failed to keep up. She ended up in danger and nearly died. I nearly died. But we didn’t. All in a day’s work.”

“You didn’t say you nearly died,” Thoria said. Link looked to her and found her eyes full of worry. “I’ll ask you again. Are you alright?”

Link shrugged. “As well as I can be. Zelda is alive, and so am I, at least, for now. I’ll probably be beheaded for not being fast enough to keep up with her like I should have, but there it is.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Thoria said. “You saved her life. If you punted her off the edge yourself I think they might be a bit fucked off with you, but from what you said to Impa, she ran off on her own. You did your best, and saved her. Why would they kill you for that?”

Link shrugged again. “Beats me. Rhoam’s already angry with me for-“ he stopped.

“For?” Thoria prompted. “You get caught in Zelda’s knicker drawer or something?”

Link laughed, the sound surprising him. “No.” He looked to her again. She wore an easy smile, her eyes soft. Still concerned, but at ease. Comfortable.

“I went to visit my home when I was meant to be guarding you, when you were still asleep,” he said.

“Is that why they whipped you?” she asked.

Link frowned. “I never said-“

“Didn’t have to,” Thoria showed her upturned palms, spreading them. “The way you held yourself the day after, Navi alluding to it, the gossiping servants, it didn’t take long to figure it out.”

“When do you gossip with the servants?” Link asked.

“Sharp ears,” she said, tapping them. “When we’re not talking, I’m still listening.”

“Uh-huh,” Link said, sitting straighter and grimacing. “Have you heard any other insightful gossip?”

Thoria shrugged. “Not much. Zelda’s seeing a bunch of blokes, looking for a suitor. The butler has a secret addiction to sour pollen. Half the court and commons want to get in your pants.” She winked.

“Oh, and the Zora delegate supposedly spent a private night in the princess’s chambers.”

“Where did you hear this?” Link asked.

“Servant gossip, I told you,” Thoria said. “Why, is it true?”

“Absolutely not. What makes you think I know, anyway?”

“You’re her Chosen Knight?”

“That doesn’t mean she shares her personal life with me,” Link said, looking away.

“Li-ar,” Thoria said again, in a sing-song voice. “But whatever.” She shifted in her seat, her knees brushing his thigh. “All I care about right now is that you’re okay. You never should have been put in a situation like that, it wasn’t fair.”

“Zelda didn’t know about the bulblins,” Link said, defensively.

“She shouldn’t have ridden off though. It was a bit stupid.” Thoria argued.

“Careful,” Link said, lowering his voice. “You’re bordering on treason.”

Thoria raised her eyebrows, but she did not argue any more. Link rolled his shoulders as she sank back into the sofa and arched her back, her flat belly and pronounced chest consuming his vision until he looked away.

“Were you worried about me?” he asked.

“Not until I found out what happened,” she replied. “I know you can look after yourself, and I didn’t expect this. Now I know, yes, I am retrospectively worried. And worried now about how you are.”

“I’m fine.”

“Uh-huh.” Thoria leant forward and picked up her book, curling up on the sofa again, her arm against his. “I’ll just keep reading until you want to talk.”

“I’ve nothing to say.”

She gave him a half smile, just one corner of her mouth pulling out. “That’s okay. I’m just glad you’re back in one piece.”

“Until they chop my head off.”

“They won’t.”

“They might.”

“Well, I sincerely hope not. What on earth would I do if they did?”

“You could always have me stuffed,” he quipped. Thoria snorted and buried her face in her book, her shoulders shaking with supressed laughter.

Link smiled and relaxed back, watching her slender fingers turn the pages of the bestiary she was reading. It was only the first volume, dealing with the basic animals one might encounter in Hyrule.

The sun began to lower in the sky, and Link noticed Thoria was reading more slowly than usual.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Comfortable,” she said, absently. Indeed, she did appear to be so, her feet tucked neatly beneath her, leaning on his arm. He had the sudden urge to put it around her shoulders. Shaking himself, he rose, earning a protesting grunt from her.

“I can get you another book,” he said. “Do you have a preference?”

“Nah, just something I’ve not read yet,” she said, smiling.

“Give me an easy task, I’ve had a rough day,” Link said, grinning back.

“Okay,” Thoria reached for one of the books on the table. “Help me out with this, then.”

Link returned to the sofa. Thoria wasn’t as close this time, and he found he missed the warmth of her arm against his. But he had his duty, he was to guard her. Guard her, and nothing more. It didn’t matter that she smelled of a crisp autumn morning, nor that her lips were blood red without paint. It didn’t matter that she made him laugh, or set his tumultuous mind at ease. He had a job to do, by royal order, to protect the kingdom. He could not be distracted from it.

“This passage,” Thoria said, flipping through the pages. Link leant closer to look. “It doesn’t make sense. There is one claim from one source that your ancestor was Royal Consort of the Princess Ruto – I know he, or you, met her and stuff. But…”

“Never her consort,” Link said, grimacing. “That bloody fish was obsessed with me. Thought we were going to get married. She gave me the spiritual stone of water as a betrothal gift, calling it an engagement ring.” He shuddered. “It’s a shame I needed it or I’d have pitched it into Lake Hylia.”

Thoria snorted with laughter. “From what I heard, you get it from all sides. Women, that is.”

Link twisted his mouth. The faces of past lovers, in this life and his previous, flashed before him. None had been difficult to attain, and none had lasted. “I suppose.”

“Lucky you. Pick of the litter, as it were.”

“Not really. They’re all the same, in my experience.”

“That so?”

She turned suddenly, and Link’s breath hitched in his throat. She was barely an inch away, her eyes shining like emeralds, brimming with mischief. Her lips were stretched in a smile that began to fade as he stared. She lowered her eyes and ducked her chin, but she didn’t move back. Link swallowed as she looked back up, a smaller, shyer smile on her face. Something inside himself gave him a hard shove. _Just do it!_

He leaned forwards, slowly. She turned to him and he closed his eyes, feeling her breath on his cheek…

“Link!”

He jerked backwards as Navi flew into his face, fluttering her wings. Behind her glow, he saw Thoria turning back to her book, casting an exasperated look at the fairy.

“Zelda wants you,” Navi squeaked. “You need to go now!”

“Thanks, Navi,” Link said, not caring if she picked up on his sarcasm. Thoria twitched her eyebrow, holding the book tightly.

“Sorry, I have to go,” Link said, rising, noting the two guards who had entered. “I… I’ll see you later?”

Thoria gave a tight smile that softened as she raised her eyes to his. “Sure.”

Navi made a rude face at her, and Thoria responded with a good natured roll of her eyes.

Link left the library and the warmth behind. Navi fluttered at his shoulder, squeaking smugly.

“I told you, you know. You’ve let yourself get too close to that woman, and everyone thinks your courting her, even Zelda… you’re not doing your job properly… putting Hyrule in danger… if only you’d just listen to me, then…”

On and on she went, all the way up to Zelda’s chambers. Link steeled himself. This was it. Now he would know his fate. He bowed his head before the grand doors. Was there anything he needed to do before he entered? Would he be given the time? Most condemned souls in Hyrule were given at least a week before their sentence was carried out to write a will, or think on one last statement, or see their family. His heart was painful in his chest, but his mind was calm, a single, solitary regret floating to the surface.

He should have kissed her. If he was to die then that might have made it all worth it.

He raised a hand and knocked.

“Enter,” came Impa’s voice.

Link turned the handle and slipped inside, surprised to find only Zelda and Impa within.

“Your Highness,” he greeted the princess. “Lady Impa.” Zelda’s smile was tired, and Impa’s nod nothing but cursory.

“Do come in,” Zelda said, beckoning. Link entered and stood before the women, hands behind his back, spine straight. Navi left him and flew to Zelda, settling haughtily on her shoulder. He looked beyond them, through the walls, out into the great, black sky.

He had died before. Many times. He knew nothing of what lay in between his lives. But perhaps this was the last one? Would he be reincarnated again? Or was this his final test, that he had failed? Failed, like he had failed to protect Zelda, failed to fight off the darkness at the alter, failed to kiss the strange and beautiful woman who had fallen through a rent in the sky and into his life?

He felt a sudden and powerful urge to run. He had faced his death bravely before, each and every time. Each time, he had fought until he could fight no more, struggling on, determined, until his life slipped away. But what if this was that last time? There was so much he hadn’t done!

“Ser Link,” Zelda began. “Firstly, I would like to thank you. Your actions today saved my life, and with it, Hyrule itself. You have my gratitude.”

Link steeled himself and bowed. “I do my duty, your Highness.”

“I have decided to keep this matter between us,” Zelda said. “My father’s health grows ever frailer, and I would not worry him with such news. However, your actions today do dictate an outcome.”

Link squared his shoulders and lowered his eyes to rest on Zelda’s. For the first time since he had met the princess, he allowed his gaze to linger, blue on blue, holding her stare until she broke it, her eyes darting away like a startled rabbit.

“Whilst Lady Impa was less than impressed by my injuries and danger,” Zelda said, “She accepts that you did everything in your power to keep me safe.”

Link blinked. “That is my duty, your Highness.”

“I would reward you for saving me, Ser Link,” Zelda said. “But I find myself at a loss as to how.”

Link stared. He stared until he realised Zelda was waiting for a reply. Had he misheard?

“Uh… there is no reward greater than… um… seeing you safe and well, your Highness,” he stumbled. He regretted his earlier discourtesy, and turned his gaze deliberately to her shoulder.

Zelda smiled. “Flattered though I am, you deserve a reward nonetheless. Lady Impa suggested making you a Lord.”

Link recoiled. The thought of sitting in stuffy council chambers, holding lands, managing servants… confined even further by the rules of the kingdom, shackled to courtly life forever. He stuttered, tripping over a jumble of protests behind his teeth.

“I-if that is what your Highness suggests, then-“

“I know you would hate it,” Zelda said, raising a hand. Link relaxed. “So, I can only offer you this.”

She rose, gingerly. Her fingers were still bandaged, but she came to him and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Ser Link, I name you one favour. If it is within my power, name it of me, and I shall grant it.”

She nodded and stepped back. “You have my leave.”

Dumbfounded, Link turned and made for the door.

“Oh, one more thing,” Zelda called him back. “I will not need a daily report on Thoria for the time being. Once every three days should suffice unless something of import happens. I trust you will remain vigilant in your duties.”

“Yes, your Highness,” Link said. He bowed, and exited, closing the door softly behind him. Suddenly, he felt light. He wasn’t going to die after all!

A smile splitting his face, he raced down the narrow stairs, taking them three at a time. Glancing out a window, he marvelled at the washes of orange and purple across the sky. How had he not noticed it? Every day, the sky was painted a thousand shades, none ever the same, and he took it for granted. No more. Giddy, he almost crashed into a pair of soldiers and laughed, clapping them on the shoulders, before rushing on.

He realised for the first time that he hadn’t actually eaten all day, and he was ravenous. He dashed through the castle, stopping only to poke his head into the Library. Thoria was not there, so she must be in the Great Hall.

Link arrived to find her at their usual table, her assigned guards leaning against the wall as she toyed with the stem of her goblet. She looked up as he entered, and her face broke into a wide smile.

“Link!” Thoria waved him over. “That was quick, I wasn’t expecting you back so soon.” She leaned over as he sank into a chair. “How’d it go?”

“Better than I thought,” Link replied, waving over a servant. As they were served two generous goblets of sweet, red wine, he took a moment to savour the way the evening light played across Thoria’s face. “I’m not going to be beheaded after all.”

“Well that’s good,” Thoria said. “It means I won’t have to cause absolute chaos avenging your death.”

Link chuckled. “I’ve been rewarded, actually.”

“Well done you,” Thoria said. Her smile was genuine. “Money?”

“A favour, to be named at a later date,” Link said. Thoria made a face.

“That’s it? I’d have thought pulling a royal bum out of the metaphorical fire was worth a bit more than that.”

Link shook his head. “It’s actually a lot more than you think. I can name anything, and, if Zelda can do it, she will.”

Thoria raised an eyebrow and sat back. She ran a thumb over her lip. Link followed the movement, and busied himself with his wine before he stared too long.

“That’s actually pretty good, then,” she said. “Any ideas on what you want?”

“No,” he replied. “It’s not the sort of gift that you just squander after a few hour’s thought.”

“True. It’s worth thinking about all the same.” Thoria snapped her fingers as their meals were served, and Link fell upon the food. “How about your own holdings? A nice little manor somewhere remote.”

Link shook his head. “I’d never be there,” he said, his mouth full. “I’m still Zelda’s Chosen Knight, and must honour my duty to her.”

“Hm. A pay rise?”

“Possibly. But there’s not much I’d spend my rupees on.”

“Oh yeah, you get everything given to you here.” Thoria winked as Link glared. “I know you’ve earned it, don’t bite me.”

“I’d rather be home,” Link said, softly. “Than be somewhere I don’t feel I truly belong.”

Thoria’s smile slid off her face. She gazed down at her plate. “You and I both,” she said.

Link said nothing. He had said too much already. But Thoria was not the type to let such a comment go.

“So… you don’t feel like you belong here? After all this time?”

Link took his time chewing his meat. “I was raised a farmer, in a tiny village in the forest. Make of that what you will.”

Thoria nodded. “Alright. I suppose nearly a decade isn’t enough to make you feel more at home.”

“Not by a long shot.”

“Where do you feel more at home?”

Link shrugged. “The forest.”

Though his comment was flippant, and Thoria wisely dropped the subject, Link reflected on just how true it was. His newfound lust for life dissipated as he remembered just how alone he was in the castle. He had always felt most at home far removed from civilisation, in a secluded place, surrounded by trees and birdsong and sunlight. Even in Ordon, his home had been built far from the other houses. Though the reason was never given to him, and the conversation changed if he asked, he appreciated it. The isolation was pleasant, peaceful. Some evenings, fireflies would settle in the branches outside his window, campfire smoke slight on the evening air, and he would stare out over the land, the trees and the sky, feeling at peace with the world. It was a feeling he longed for, and knew he would never get here.

Thoria helped. Her charm and wit gave him a peace of mind that he had forgotten was possible. But now, that had to change. If he was to abide by Zelda’s orders, he had to withdraw. The thought saddened him, and he looked to her again, tearing bites from her meat with little jerks of her head, like a predator. A cat. A giant shadow cat that prowled the deepest parts of Faron Woods. Lithe and lethal and beautiful. He forced the thought from his mind.

The rest of the meal was conducted in silence. Without the need for words, they finished and rose, making their slow way back to Thoria’s rooms. As they neared, Thoria nudged him with an elbow.

“Feel better knowing you’re not going to get chopped up?”

“Yeah, a little,” Link said, as they ascended, barely finding the strength to smile. “It’s nice to know I’m appreciated once in a while.”

Thoria smiled. “I certainly do.”

Link blinked. “You do?”

“Of course. You didn’t have to pull me out the lake, bring me here, and then spend the next fuck knows how long looking after me.”

“I did technically have to do the last part.”

“Shut up,” Thoria said, nudging him again. “You know what I mean. You could just sit and watch me stew in my room, bored out of my skull. You let me do fun things, like train me and take me nice places. You showed me the Library, took me to town, all that stuff you didn’t have to do.”

They reached her rooms. Thoria paused, one hand on the doorknob.

“I do appreciate it,” she said. “You’ve done a lot for me. I just wish there was something I could do for you.”

Link smiled. “You don’t have to do anything. Out of all the tasks I’ve been set over my life, this is one of the nicer ones.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” she laughed, and pulled him into a hug. For a moment, her lips brushed his neck, and he wanted nothing more than to hold on, to seal her in an embrace that would endure until the stone around them crumbled to dust. To steal the kiss that he had missed. But Zelda’s words rang in his ears.

_You must not forget your duty._

Link stepped back and inclined his head. “See you tomorrow.”

“Oh, I almost forgot,” Thoria darted inside and appeared a moment later, a slim branch held in her fingers. It was covered in fuzzy, yellow flowers.

“Acacia,” she said. “For you.”

Link accepted and smiled. “What does this one mean, then?”

“Guess,” she said, and winked. She waggled her fingers at him and disappeared behind her door. Link sighed as the lock clicked into place and strode towards the staircase, cradling the branch.

His mind was full of her. The shine of her hair, the curve of her figure. The thought of her lips against his neck sent a thrill through him, his stomach somersaulting. He growled, low and deep in his throat. He was acting like he was a teenager again, the very first time he had truly noticed a woman for the beauty that they were.

Hyrule came first. It had to. The kingdom had endured too much to risk further danger. Regardless of her innocence, he had to trust in Zelda’s prophecy. She, too, wanted what was best for Hyrule.  
Exhausted, Link shouldered open his door. He barely found the strength to pull off his clothes as he laid the flowers down on his dresser. The late evening sun was still in the sky as he crawled under the covers and sank into oblivion, thoughts of Thoria seeping from his waking mind and into his dreams.


	36. 36 - Navi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Archive Warnings Apply - this one's graphic. (Non-con/Unknown assault)

Navi flew along the corridor and up a flight of stairs, heading for the quarters she shared with Link. The warm feeling she had from Zelda’s kind gift to her Hero did little to alleviate her frustration. She shook her head. This stranger was a growing problem, and Zelda thankfully agreed. Though she had done nothing yet, it was only a matter of time.

Navi shook indignantly. What was worse was Link fawning over her as though she was some great _beauty_. Sitting so close to her on the sofa in the library like that! It almost looked as though the stranger was about to _kiss_ him! Navi snorted, absorbed in her irritation, and flew into a statue. Righting herself and cursing in a long-forgotten language, she flew on.

No, this Thoria was no beauty at all. She was too tall, her hair was the colour of tar, and her skin was so pale it made her look sickly. Her eyes were green, like a viper, and that smattering of freckles across her nose was just abhorrent. Her figure was curved, yes, but it was still unfeminine. No woman should have any muscle on their shoulders, nor forearms so toned. Beautiful women were petite and graceful, like the princess. Like her. Navi knew _true_ beauty, the beauty only the fae and the magical beings of this world could appreciate.

One day, Link would learn to appreciate it as well. He may be blinded by his honour, but Navi knew there must be a way for him to see her for what she really was.

Finally, she reached Link’s door, and slid aside the panel. Navi flew in, quietly, the room dark and still, silent but for the soft breathing coming from the bed. Navi smiled. Link was under the covers, on his side, curled up and perfect. His torso was bare, and Navi shivered, hoping the same was true of the rest of him. She alighted on the bedside table, kicking a fuzzy little branch away, watching him sleep. She smiled at the simple joy of it, the way his lips parted ever-so-slightly, the way just one of his fingers twitched in a dream, the way his chest rose and fell.

The room was cool, but not cold, a blessed change from the heat of the day. The window was ajar, and a soft breeze made the net curtains rustle, open to allow the moonlight to spill across the room, slanting across the bed and the sleeping figure.

Navi blinked as Link muttered something in his sleep and rolled over onto his back. The covers twisted under him, pulling them across his stomach. Navi’s breath caught.

Her hopes had been answered. He was bare under the sheets as well, and his turn had exposed the tip of him, hard under the moonlight. Navi swallowed, unable to tear her gaze away.

Though they had been together for many years, Link had always been maddeningly respectful. He rarely changed his clothes in front of her, and he was never naked when she was near. Should he have to bathe when on the road, he would gently ask her to wait by the camp, to guard his possessions. She always had, though she longed to join him, to shed the thin shift she wore for modesty, as was proper in Hyrule, and share the moment with him.

But now… Navi found herself fluttering to the bed. She lit lightly on Link’s hip, only a few inches away from his exposed body. She stared and stared. It was almost coy, the way it was mostly hidden under the sheets. Tantalising, tempting, as though it was shy.

Navi reached out a tiny fingertip and touched the end, where the skin met and bunched underneath. She whipped her hand away, watching the Hylian for any signs of waking.

When he slept on, she rose to her feet and tiptoed closer. She laid her whole hand upon him, then the other, on each side. She paused. Could she? _Should_ she? He was sleeping, after all. Sleeping, and beautiful. Still she hesitated. What would he think if he were to wake and see her like this?

But her eyes were drawn back to her hands. She drew a tiny breath, running her tongue over her dry lips. The soft glow from her body cast gentle shadows about the room, highlighting her hands on him.

If Hylian anatomy was anything like the fae, then where her hands were was the most sensitive part. She ran her hands up and down, pressing her thumbs into the middle, keeping them near the tip. She kept a close watch on the Hylian, her heart beating rapidly.

She was rewarded as Link stirred in his sleep, letting out a soft sigh.

Emboldened, Navi took hold of the sheet and tugged it down, exposing him further. Her mouth opened of its own accord. It was as tall as she was, and wide with it. She stole another glance to ensure he was still asleep, and raised her hands to her throat, unclasping her shift and allowing it to fall from her shoulders.

As naked as he, she leaned forwards, creeping closer until she could lay her hands on him again. She rubbed, and smiled as Link murmured something in his sleep. Her nerve grew, and she climbed onto him, a leg to either side. She gripped with her legs and wriggled her whole body against him, rewarded by a soft groan from near the pillows.

She swallowed, her mouth dry. Her boldness surprised even her, and she pushed herself up, kneading her fingers into the tip, rubbing her hips against the middle. She looked to Link’s face, saw his eyebrows knitted, as though confused. He rolled his head from one side to the other, his breathing quickening.

Navi felt a thrill charge through her. He was enjoying it! And it was her that was doing it, her that was making him feel good. Her, no one else! She grinned. Let’s see the stranger do this! She wriggled against him more forcefully, unable to fully ignore the feeling she was getting from their contact. A small part of her wanted him to wake, to see it was her, to be conscious as she pleasured him. She wanted him to look her in the eyes as she did this, to see his eyes glaze over, to watch his head roll back. But she was too shy. Best he remained asleep for now, and dream...

She leaned forwards, her courage growing again, and laid her lips against the tip. She ran her tongue along the middle, running her hands along the sides. She gripped with her legs, squeezing as hard as she dared, and Link let out a long, low moan.

Navi quivered delightedly.

“Dream of me,” she whispered. “Dream of me doing this. We can be together, we can make it work…”

She could feel herself heating up, her own wetness making her gyrations easier along him. Link gripped the bedsheets and moaned again.

“I’m with you!” Navi whispered. “Almost… almost! Say my name, Link!”

Link groaned again. Navi slowed, wanting to hear him say it. He was panting in his sleep, and his erection twitched, startling the fairy. “Say my name,” she whispered again, focusing on the tip. “Come on…”

“Ah…” Link pushed his head back, chest heaving. “Th…”

Navi redoubled her efforts, panting a little herself. She was so close.

Link moaned again, pulling his lips back over his teeth. “Please…” he murmured. Navi shivered delightedly.

“Please…”

Navi lowered her head and kissed him, running her tongue over him.

“Please!”

His back arched, Navi holding on tight…

“Thoria!”

Link almost yelped the stranger’s name as he came, hard. Navi launched herself away from him in horror, her hands covering her body as she fluttered above him, her moment stolen from her. He was still panting, still asleep.

“Thoria…” he moaned again, his breathing beginning to slow.

Navi stared, mouth agape. He hadn’t been dreaming of her. He had been dreaming of the ugly, weird woman instead!

Navi felt tears brimming in her eyes, her heart aching at the betrayal. She looked to him again, on his back, a small, stupid smile on his face. His stomach was lined with his seed, and she noticed her shift still on the bed. She darted down and retrieved it, donning it quickly. Drawing herself up, she stuck her nose in the air and flew out the window. She did not look back at the sleeping Hylian, whose smile grew as he dreamed a secret dream.


	37. 37 - Link

Link stirred, the morning sun streaming through the open curtains. He moved sluggishly, his back and shoulders protesting loudly against the abuse they had suffered the previous day. But still, he smiled, the distant memory of a pleasant dream on the fringes of his memory. Thoria had been in it, and it had been the first dream he had had in what felt like years that hadn’t turned into a nightmare. He allowed his smile to broaden, savouring the fleeting images of blue sky and soft, green grass.

He sat up with a groan, and looked down. He realised with a jolt that his sheets were wrapped around his thighs, exposing him to the room. Dried seed lined his stomach.

Link felt blood rush to his face and yanked the covers up, looking to Navi’s little house. It appeared to be empty, as it had been when he had gone to bed. He prayed fervently to the Divines that Navi had stayed with Zelda that night, and had not seen him. She was is constant companion, his oldest friend, but there were lines that you just didn’t cross. He shuddered at the thought.

He scrambled from the bed, hurrying to the bathroom, running a quick, cool bath. As he scrubbed, the dream came back to him, fragmented, but clear enough for him to understand. He had been with Thoria, and she had pulled him down to a bed of leaves on a dark forest floor. She had whispered his name and he had called hers.

Embarrassed, Link roughly dried himself. These thoughts had to stop. Thoria was a guest in the castle, and Zelda still did not trust her. It was his duty to watch for anything suspicious, anything that might lend credence to the prophecy Zelda had found. He would not be able to do so if he was fantasising about her.

But… He let his hands fall into the cool water. She had done nothing to warrant Zelda’s suspicion, nor Navi’s hostility. For the fairy _was_ hostile towards Thoria, if not openly. Link had not missed the glares, nor the mutterings almost too quiet for him to hear. He said nothing. He loved and trusted Navi, but he was confused as to why she hated Thoria so.

As far as he could tell, Thoria had done nothing except fall from the sky. She did not remember how, and was alone in a world that was strange to her. Link knew what it was to be alone, but he couldn’t quite comprehend what it must be like to be somewhere where everything down to the very earth was alien. He climbed from the bath.

But she was alien in Hyrule as well. He _must_ adhere to his duty. He stared at himself in the mirror above the sink, gripping the cold marble edge. He had to do something. He had to distance himself, as his princess commanded. It was the only way to protect the kingdom.

It was with a sombre fist that he knocked on Thoria’s door that morning. The sky seemed to reflect his mood, the clouds blanketing the air a sullen grey that threatened a storm. Link urged it on. The summer storms were both blessing and curse in Hyrule. They swept away the worst of the heat of the day, and brought life-giving rain to the plains, swelling the streams and lakes and drawing animals out to frolic in the cool.

But they could be disastrous for the farms. If the rains were too frequent, too fierce, or went on too long, the crops could drown or be damaged, halving the yield and causing many to go hungry in the winter months.

“Good morning, Trouble,” Thoria said, striding into the corridor. Before Link could stop her, her arms were around his neck. He tried to ignore her soft skin, the strength of her arms, her chest pressed against his.

“Hello,” he said, stepping back. Thoria blinked, but otherwise made no mention of his standoffishness. Her eyes were shadowed, and she yawned.

“Sleep well?” Thoria asked, falling into step beside him. He avoided her eye.

“Fine.”

“I was up half the night,” Thoria said. “Couldn’t sleep.” Her eyes flickered to him and away again. “No Navi today?”

“No.”

“Where is she?”

“Probably with the princess.”

“Good.”

Link glanced at her. “Good?”

Thoria had a decidedly ugly twist to her mouth. “If I’m honest, I don’t think I want to deal with her bullshit today.” She glared ahead, her jaw set.

Link nodded. “I can understand that.” _Even Thoria must have her limits,_ he thought. He cursed as he stumbled over a rat trap, the steel sprung lever snapping shut just shy of his toes.

“I’ve been seeing a lot of those lately,” Thoria nodded at the trap. “Does the castle get problems with rats often?”

“Occasionally,” Link replied. “People said they’ve been hearing them in the walls.”

“Ah.” Thoria glanced away from him, her hand rising to smooth her hair. “They’re… sure it’s rats?”

“Yes.”

“All right then.” She let loose a quick sigh and nudged him with her elbow. “So, what’s up with you?” she asked.

“I’m fine. Really.”

Thoria sighed. “Okay. But I hope you don’t mind me saying, this doesn’t seem like one of your usual moods.”

Link bristled. “My usual _moods_?”

“Sorry, that was rude of me. I meant you’re off again today. But different than usual. I just-”

“Stop probing,” Link snapped, and immediately regretted it. The hurt in her eyes sent a dagger through him. He opened his mouth to apologise and paused.

_Remember your duty._

He said nothing.

Their conversation over breakfast was stilted, and by the time they had finished, Thoria had all but given up trying to coax more than short, clipped comments from him. For the first time since they had begun training, Thoria steered him away from the corridor that would take them to the training yard, instead making for the Library once more.

“Figured you’d prefer to sit in silence today,” she said, her voice sharp. Link raised his eyebrows. Perhaps he had gone too far too soon.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I slept badly.”

“Liar,” Thoria said, her tone still cool. “Your eyes are brighter and your complexion less wan. I’d prefer it if you were honest with me.”

“It’s… complicated.” Link stared at his feet. What could he say that would preserve their friendship, yet cease his feelings?

“Mm-hm.” Thoria pushed open the Library doors, reaching almost instinctively for the Historia. “Well, when you want to tell me why you’ve got a bug up your butt, go ahead. Or not, whatever works. Just quit being moody at me unless I’ve done something wrong. If I have, tell me.”

She held his gaze for a long and uncomfortable minute. When he held his silence, she raised her chin and flumped onto the sofa.

Link sank into his chair as Thoria flicked through the pages. Not for the first time, he wondered if she could read his mind.

For the next hour, he tried and failed to concentrate on anything but her. Like a bee drawn to a flower, his gaze was pulled to her face and body, over and over and over. He argued with himself in silence, berating his pathetic crush, trying to find fault with her, something to focus on and show himself that his affections were misplaced, wrestling with the guilt of upsetting her.

But as her frown faded and her glare gentled, he gave up. What could he do? It would be easier to detach his own legs than stop feeling the way he did. But he had to. For the good of the kingdom.

He rose and wandered to one of the great, arched windows. The Library overlooked the castle gardens, sprawling and lush with green grass and a rainbow of flowers, muted by the growling clouds overhead. Link closed his eyes. The previous night’s dream seemed not to dim with the passing of time, and he saw it ever clearer. He avoided thinking about it, about her, like a newly crippled man trying to learn to keep the weight off an injured leg.

“Hylia guide me,” he whispered. “Goddesses of creation, guide me. How do I do this? Help me detach myself. Help me do what I must for Hyrule. Show me the right way.”

No one answered. No one ever answered. He sighed, fingering the pendant Midna had given him. She would laugh at him. Poke fun, tease him until he gave up and moved on. She had been beautiful too. Even in her impish form, her strength and determination was beautiful. Like Thoria. He cursed.

He longed for his Shade to return and show him the way, but he had said himself that he had no more to teach. He doubted he would ever see the ancient skeleton again. His ancestor, centuries old. Not bound by blood, but by soul. As he ran his thumb over the smooth stone and whirled metal it was encased in, he wondered briefly if he should chance it, turn into a wolf and flee the castle, leaving his feelings behind. Run to the forest, live out his days hunting rabbits and sleeping under the stars.

Returning to his seat, he propped his chin in his hand and tried fruitlessly to conjure up some flaw about the woman before him, anything to help him move on as time crawled past and the sky grew darker. Perhaps her nose turned up too much, not the perfect amount. Maybe she was too outspoken, and in speaking her mind she was not hilarious, but crude. Her strength was abnormal for a woman, not remarkable. He sighed, tucking his chin into his chest as his eyelids dragged closed. It was hopeless.

“I’ve got it!” Thoria exploded.

Link almost fell out of his chair. Thoria was bouncing in her seat, the Historia clutched in her hands.

“I’ve got it, I’ve got it!” she sang, her smile so wide it almost closed her eyes.

“Got… what?” Link asked, depositing his book on the table and moving over to her, his curiosity overcoming his distance.

“Ancient Hylian!” she exclaimed. “I thought I had it yesterday, but now I’m sure!” She ran her fingers over the inscriptions before her. “Here, coupling these characters with those ones would make a possessive noun, but added to these would make them verbs! But even still, adjective and other descriptors are made by combining these, and these, and don’t even get me started on subjective-“

“Thoria,” Link flopped into the seat next to her. “Are you sure?”

“Of course I am,” she said. “Find me something else, and I’ll translate it for you. Now I’ve worked out the rules, it’s a breeze!”

“Impossible…” Link said, gazing at the inscription. The characters were alien to him.

“No, not to me!” She laughed. “Okay, it took me ages, but I know it now.”

“Have I told you you’re incredible?” Link asked, staring at her.

“Not often enough,” she teased, nudging him playfully, her half-smile on her lips. “Now, I’m not entirely sure about the pronunciation,” she said, tracing her finger over the letters. “But, based on the assumption that the syllables aren’t entirely different from what we speak now…” she turned to Link.

“ _Is e m ’ainm Thoria. Cuir eagal orm._ ”

“What does that mean?” Link asked. Thoria grinned.

“ _My name is Thoria. Fear me_.” And she laughed as lightning flashed, and rain finally began to pour from the sky.


	38. 38 - Zelda

“Thank you, Lord Froal. It has been a pleasure.”

“The pleasure was all mine, your Highness,” Lord Froal bowed and kissed the back of her hand. The young lord was undeniably handsome, dressed in fine robes of orange and peach, his hair black and shining. “I hope to hear from you soon.”

Zelda smiled and waved her hand, dismissing him. Without waiting, she turned on her heel and strode to the throne room. Her commons awaited her.

“Wet behind the ears,” Impa murmured at her side. “He has led a life of luxury and does not know a hard day’s work at all.”

“I am aware,” Zelda sighed. She stopped as a pair of messengers appeared, carrying armfuls of yellow flowers and parcels wrapped in bright yellow paper. A huge, curved gift draped in yellow cloth seemed to be _cheeping_.

“More gifts from Lord Dool?” She folded her hands to keep from clenching her fists. “Would you be so kind as to take those to my chambers?”

“Yes, your Highness.”

One of the messengers produced a sealed envelope, balancing his pile of gifts as he handed it over. “His Lordship requested that we deliver this into your hands, your Highness.”

Zelda took the envelope with a small smile. “Thank you. You have my leave.”

She flipped the envelope over as the messengers struggled away, laden with the gifts. It was sealed with Dool’s customary yellow wax, and stamped with his insignia. Shaking her head, Zelda slit the parchment and shook out the letter, ducking into an alcove. Impa followed and stood guard, her glare keeping prying eyes at bay.

_Your Highness,_

_I hope this letter finds you well, as I do with all my other letters. I hope the day is as fair as you, although I have my doubts, beautiful as you are. The sight of you takes my breath away, and the memory of your face stirs me in ways I have not felt since I was a much younger man._

Zelda grimaced, and read on.

_I am plagued with thoughts of you, Princess, thoughts that grow ever fonder as time passes with no word from you. I have sent you many gifts, and flowers. Does their quantity displease you? I can assure you I will send more, if I have not sent enough to satisfy you yet. My wealth is undiminished, and I would win you, my dear._

_I am deeply troubled at your lack of letter, and my heart yearns for your word. Have you not yet made your choice? It has been almost two moons since we last met, and the summer is drawing to a close. Our wedding should be in the summer months, when it is warm and bright. I would hate to think something has happened to you, oh light of my life. I would not want to send my men to ensure you are alive and well, and not injured by one of your suitors._

_It happens, as you know, Princess. A jealous man is a dangerous man. Pray, cease this game you are playing with the hearts of these other men, and send for me._

_Ever and eagerly yours,_

_Lord Articus Dool._

“He grows ever bolder,” Zelda said, passing the letter to Impa. Her aide’s brow creased as she read, and Zelda knew her lip was curling behind her collar.

“He threatens you,” she growled, crumpling the parchment.

“Indirectly,” Zelda said. “There is nothing I can yet do.”

“I can send one of my Sheikah to warn him,” Impa said. Zelda shook her head.

“No, that would only serve to insult him. I must weather this storm and choose a suitor soon, but they are all so… so…”

“Useless.” Impa said. “Put it from your mind for now. Your commons await.”

Zelda nodded and resumed her walk. The guards at the great doors banged their spears on the marble floor and opened the doors. From inside, there was a great babbling of voices, hushed almost instantly as she entered. A peal of thunder sounded from outside, where the summer storm raged.

The throne stood at the other end of the grand chamber. It was a majestic thing, exquisitely carved from marble and bleached wood, inlaid with gold. It was hard and uncomfortable, but the purple cushioning made it somewhat bearable. Zelda allowed herself a small smile. It was at her insistence only that her carpenters and masons had engineered the throne to have such luxury. King Rhoam had never allowed it. His view was that a King should never rest easy on his throne.

 _What a joy that I am but a princess,_ Zelda thought. When the old throne was destroyed during the Twilight Crisis, it was the perfect opportunity to add a little comfort to the royal behind.

Zelda walked the long chamber in silence, ascending the few steps and lowering herself onto the throne. Elevated above her commons, she surveyed the room, each face bleeding into the next, a sea of unremarkable expressions and features atop homespun clothes. To either side of her throne, she could see the gaps in the false wall, an escape route should she ever need one, invisible to all but her and Impa.

One by one, the commons were escorted to the bottom of the steps to state their request, as lightning flashed outside, rain hammering against the windows. Zelda meted out justice as it was needed, and advised when it was necessary. Her boredom grew. She thought back to when she was a child, a teenager, sitting the throne in place of her father. She had been kind, then. She had sat for hours and hours, listening to endless complaints and desires, carefully considering each answer before giving it.

But ever since the Twilight Crisis, her patience had waned. No longer had she the time to deal with minor whines, or problems that could be solved with a little intelligence from the people involved. Her answers were shorter, blunter, and often commons left with a glower instead of a smile. But their needs were individual and small.

 _Can you not see?_ Zelda wanted to scream at them. _Can none of you see that I have more important matters to attend to? I must govern this entire kingdom alone whilst my father sickens worse each day! I must fight with my council to ensure you are safe and fed, and not taxed beyond your means! I must choose a husband from a sour group of men who care naught for your welfare. I must endure my heart’s desire turning his affections towards another, and I cannot stop it, for my sainted father has decreed he must be with her all hours of the damnable day!_

But her troubles stayed within her, and she fidgeted atop the throne, trying not to remember the view of the grand chamber from much higher above, as she hung, suspended, in front of the grand carving of the triforce and the goddesses. The prickling heat as Ganondorf defiled her body and possessed her, causing her to attack her Hero, her triforce held in the hands of the Twilight Princess, Midna. The sickening of her stomach as her blood festered, and she silently screamed as the King of Evil took control, howling in soundless agony as Link turned her magic back on her, to save her.

She had not been the same afterwards, even when her power returned to her. Her sleep was troubled, she was quicker to temper, and her patience was short with the people who depended upon her. And something felt as though it were missing. An intangible something that she had but only touched, and now it was gone, and its loss was galling. She drew a deep breath and tried to still her restlessness. She was the princess, and one day would be a queen. She must behave as one.

“Next!” Called a guard. Humbly, an old woman stepped forward, her back bent with age, a travelling shawl about her shoulders. Zelda recognised her. She had come a few weeks before, to warn her of-

“Your Highness,” she said, in a reedy voice. “I beseech you. There is a dragon roosting near to Death Mountain. It has been there for weeks, eating our cattle. Please, send someone to deal with it before it starts eating people!”

Zelda sat up straighter, and beckoned Impa closer.

“Did Balla’s soldiers investigate the dragon when I asked?” she whispered.

“Yes,” Impa murmured back. “Recall, Zelda, they found evidence of the dragon and reported it back to you. It was in your nightly report sixteen days ago.”

Zelda grimaced. She had been neglecting her nightly reports of late. She pulled a smile onto her face and looked down on the old woman.

“I will send a squadron of guards to eliminate the dragon,” she decreed. “You have my thanks for bringing this to my attention.”

“Zelda,” Impa murmured. “You have no guards to spare since you doubled the patrol because of Lord Dool’s veiled threats.”

“Mages, then.”

“They are searching for a way to send Thoria back home.”

“Damn it!” Zelda said, more loudly than she meant. A silence hushed over the hall, cutting off even the light breaths and shuffling of the commons. Zelda clenched her teeth and took a calming breath.

“It can wait.”

“It cannot,” Impa replied. “It is feeding and growing. It must be dealt with.”

“Then who would you have me send?” Zelda hissed. “I will not send you, and your Sheikah are too valuable.”

“Ser Link,” Impa said, without hesitating.

Zelda shook her head. “He is guarding the stranger.”

“Who would have to travel with him,” Impa replied. “Ser Link would dispatch the dragon with ease, however…”

“The stranger might be put in danger,” Zelda said. “I wouldn’t hear of it.”

She rose, and the guards began shepherding the commons out of the chamber. A few grumbles were heard, audible over the shuffling of feet. The grumbles grew louder each time she cut her session short.

Turning her back, Zelda stepped to the side and edged around the illusion wall. Behind the throne was a space big enough for twenty people, enough for a squadron of guards to assemble should she ever need them. A lone door stood at the back, and it was through this Zelda went, Impa at her heels.

“Morally, I cannot send the stranger into a dangerous situation,” Zelda said.

“But Ser Link cannot leave her,” Impa replied.

“And the dragon must be dealt with.” Zelda sighed. “Very well. Send for Ser Link. I will give him his task.”

“As you command.” Impa bowed, and vanished. Zelda took a slow walk through the narrow passage that looped around the throne room. It was one of the few secret passages that actually existed in the castle. Though her grandmother had told her many stories of the thousands of intertwining tunnels and narrow hallways, she had only ever found this one, and the one leading from outside her chambers to her father’s. The rest were clearly stories told to lull her to sleep as a child.

Sending Link to fight a dragon was the last thing she wanted to do. She did not want to risk his life. But Impa was right, as she often was. He was her most capable warrior, and would easily complete his task. The stranger however, might not be so fortunate.

Link had been teaching her to fight, after all. Zelda felt a smile creep across her face. Yes. It would make sense to send the woman as well. Link could use the _help_. And, if Thoria just happened to be gravely injured, then that would just be a pity.

Zelda stopped in her tracks. How had such a grim thought crossed her mind? She shivered.

Entering her chambers after the long climb up the winding staircase, Zelda found Navi sunning herself on the windowsill. The fairy raised a lazy hand in greeting.

“How were your meetings?” she asked.

“All is well,” Zelda replied, taking a seat at her desk. She ignored the pile of yellow in the corner of her vision, as bright and insistent as the sun. What she could not ignore, however, was the garishly yellow parrot in an ostentatious cage. She withheld a groan, and turned back to the fairy. “There have been reports of a dragon to the west. Ser Link will be sent to deal with it.”

“Oh, no!” Navi squeaked, scrambling to her feet. She flew across the room with a light tinkling of her wings. “Link mustn’t be put in danger!”

“He is quite capable,” Zelda replied. “Will you be joining him?”

“That depends,” Navi said. “Is that woman going too?”

“She has to,” Zelda said. “Link is still under the King’s command to watch her.”

“Then I’m not going.” Navi folded her arms and plopped down on a pile of books.

“Navi,” Zelda said, softly. “Will you tell me what it is that has upset you so?”

“Nothing,” Navi said, her nose in the air. “I’m done trying to make him see that bitch is evil and dangerous. He can find out on his own.”

Zelda shook her head. “There is nothing that I want more than to resolve this,” she said. “I want her gone as much as you. I cannot have my kingdom put at risk. But there is nothing I can do without proof.”

“Find some, then,” Navi grumbled.

“I would if I could,” Zelda said. “I too find it distasteful that my Chosen Knight has to spend so much time in the company of a stranger, and not doing his duty by me as his title merits. But I cannot overrule my father.”

“I just hope those Mages of yours find a way to get rid of her, and soon,” Navi said. “She’s dangerous.”

“I know,” Zelda said, biting off the end of the word before it became too sharp. “I know. You keep saying. But do not fret. This will all be resolved soon.”


	39. 39 - Link

The storm lasted for two days. Two days of awkward silences and stilted conversation as Link tried to distance himself. He had kept his words short and to the point, and eventually, even Thoria’s conversation dried. She had tried to teach him Ancient Hylian, but Link could not concentrate. She had told jokes, some of which didn’t make sense, some of which were hilarious, but Link could not find it in himself to laugh.

The thought of battling a dragon was of little concern. It was not the first time. But his heart was heavy with pushing Thoria away. Now that she was no longer making an effort to engage him, he found he missed her conversation more than ever.

He had never felt so alone. Without Thoria’s companionship, the castle seemed even bigger and emptier than it had when he had first begun to live there. Even Navi seemed to be avoiding him, spending her days with Zelda. When Link had seen them at mealtimes, or passed them in the hallways, Navi had turned her back, her nose in the air. At a loss for what he had done to anger her so, he had become quieter and quieter, unable even to take solace in Thoria’s delightful witticisms.

She was nose deep in another bestiary, the third volume, detailing the aqueous creatures and races of Hyrule. The silence was deafening, and he was exhausted. His nightmares had returned, leaving him jumping at shadows on the walls and afraid to look in the mirror.

Something had to change. He was to fight a dragon with her. They needed to communicate, to work together. He had to at least be cordial. Surely he could manage that?

“So, what creatures do you have at home?” he asked, his voice sudden in the stillness of the Library. Thoria glanced up, unperturbed, as though she had been expecting him to speak.

“The usual.” She said. “Cats, dogs, birds, cattle, sheep, pigs…” Thoria ticked them off on her fingers. “Horses, snakes, lizards, insects…”

“The same as us, then,” Link said, smiling. It was as though the last two days had not happened. He felt his misery wash away as though it was nothing more than a speck of dirt before a waterfall of sunlight. He moved to her sofa, careful to keep to the opposite end.

“Pretty much,” Thoria shrugged. “No fairies though. Or monsters in the literal sense.”

“You’re lucky,” Link said. “They are a plague.”

“Fairies or monsters?” Thoria asked. Link glanced at her and found her eyes glinting with mischief.

“Both,” he said, and she giggled. She gave him a curious look, and he could read the query in her eyes. _What was up with you these last few days?_ But she didn’t voice it, and Link was grateful.

“So, you have no fairies or monsters… so no wolves?” he asked, skirting around the unspoken question.

Thoria frowned. “We have wolves.”

Link smirked. “Wolves are monsters.”

“No, they’re not,” Thoria said, sitting up straighter. “They just have a bad reputation. People have feared them for thousands of years, when wolves only really filched the occasional sheep or baby if left unattended.”

“Filched?”

“Stole.”

“That is enough reason to call them monsters,” Link said. “Stealing babies is horrible.”

Thoria shrugged. “They have to eat the same as we do. But they can’t farm, can they? Hunting is all they know. They’re only trying to survive, and a baby person is easier to eat than a baby deer, which can run away.”

It was Link’s turn to frown. “You speak of them as if they are dogs.”

“Dogs are domesticated wolves,” Thoria said.

“Bullshit,” Link said. “Dogs are nothing like wolves!”

“Not now,” Thoria agreed. “But if Hyrule is anything like home, it has a history spanning millennia. Ancient humans domesticated wolves, and bred them selectively over thousands of years to enhance desired traits, breed out undesirable ones, change their size, appearance, temperament…”

“So, your people used magic to make wolves into dogs?” Link shook his head at the idea.

“No,” Thoria said. “We don’t have magic. They used time and patience.”

Link thought about it. “It doesn’t sound feasible,” he said, eventually.

“Hand me some parchment? I’ll show you,” Thoria said, eagerly reaching for a quill.

“No, it’s okay,” Link said. “I’ll take your word for it.”

Thoria huffed. “Fine. But it’s fascinating.”

“I suppose you’d tell me dragons are pets as well,” Link said, bumping her shoulder with his own. Thoria looked up, eyes sparkling.

“Oh no,” she said. “Dragons are very dangerous. They’re big, they’re faster than they look, and their bite is deadly.”

Link nodded. “I certainly wouldn’t want to be bitten by a dragon,” he said. “They’re scary enough from a distance, and I’ve been close enough to be bitten more than once.”

Thoria’s eyebrows shot up. “You’ve been close to a dragon?” she asked, eyes wide.

“Close enough to kill a couple,” Link said, shrugging.

“I’d love to get close enough to pat one,” Thoria said. “Fuck the danger. I find them fascinating. So long as I don’t get bitten, that is.”

Link smiled.

“It just so happens that there have been reports of a dragon nesting in Hyrule, near Death Mountain,” he said.

“What an ominous name,” Thoria said. “A dragon nesting… I’m half-tempted to ask if we can go.”

“Do you have any experience with them at all?”

“No, they lived on an island I’ve never been to,” Thoria said. “But I know their hide is as tough as armour, their bite is a death sentence, and they can easily eat a cow in one go.”

“That’s correct,” Link said. “They are also highly intelligent. So… Zelda has decreed that I must go to resolve this dragon problem. You’re to come with me.”

Thoria’s eyes lit up. “Really?”

“Yes. Now… you’re good with a spear and a bow.”

“And duel wielding swords.”

“You’re better with a spear,” Link said. Thoria stuck her tongue out at him. It was little and pink and sat between her cherry-red lips. Link had a sudden and overwhelming urge to kiss her. His own lips moved soundlessly for a moment, and Thoria grinned, breaking the spell.

“I’ll keep practicing. So… shall we go and see a dragon?”

“Kill one,” Link said. Thoria’s face fell.

“Oh,” she said. “I don’t want to kill it. I only want to get close enough to give it a poke and then run.”

“Poking a sleeping dragon?” Link gaped at her. “Are you mad?”

“A little,” Thoria agreed happily.

“We’d have to kill it,” Link said, softly. “It would bring great trouble to Hyrule if it was allowed to nest and grow.”

“By eating a few cows?”

“And people. I’ve been tasked with killing it, and you need to stay with me. If you don’t want to kill it, you could always stay in Kakariko. Zelda doesn’t have to know.”

“Well…” Thoria sighed and looked out the window. “Are they rare?”

“Rare enough in Hyrule. But they exist in many other parts of the world.”

“Okay then,” Thoria said. She rose, rubbing her back. “I’m not happy about it. But sure. Let’s get ready.”

Link lead them out of the Library and down to the kitchens.

“Hey, Mallory,” he said, as they entered.

“Oh, hello, sweetcakes,” Mallory replied, hauling a sack of potatoes onto the counter. All around them was the clanging and clattering of pots and pans, the clamour of voices and the squawking of a cucco. “What can I do for you lovely young things?”

“We need some supplies,” Link said. “We’re going to Death Mountain tomorrow.”

“Ooh, that’s an unusual place for a date!” Mallory winked. Link felt his face grow hot.

“We’re not,” he said, too quickly. Mallory winked again, and Link glanced to Thoria for help.

“Don’t look at me, this was your idea,” she said, holding up her hands in mock innocence.

“I’m sure you’ll have a lovely time,” Mallory said, dusting off her hands. “Link, honey, you know where everything is.”

Pouting, Link made his way around the counter, Thoria behind him. He pulled out two hemp sacks and roughly stuffed loaves of bread, dried meat, and some apples inside.

“That doesn’t look like much,” Thoria observed.

“It takes just over half a day’s hard riding to reach Kakariko,” Link said. “A full day if we walk. If we need to, we can get more there, or stock up again for the journey back.”

“What if it takes longer?”

“I can hunt.”

“Oh, yeah.”

Link hefted the sacks and tossed one to Thoria, who caught it deftly. She weighed it in her hands.

“Not too heavy. Awesome.”

Link nodded and beckoned. Thoria obediently followed him as they left the kitchens and looped around, coming out into the courtyard. Link lead them in the direction of the training yard, but took a turn at the last moment, leading them to the armoury. After, he would pick up some healing potion and burn salve from one of the castle’s mages, just in case.

It was quiet inside, save for the soft billowing of the furnace in the corner. It was dark and desperately hot, and Link immediately began to sweat. It was like walking into Death Mountain’s crater. He heard Thoria swearing behind him.

“I hate the heat,” she complained. “I can never breathe properly.”

“Same,” Link said. “We’ll be quick.”

Passing Thoria his own sack, he reached up and plucked a spear from the nearby rack, testing the weight of it. He picked up a holster, a bow, and a quiver of arrows.

“Out,” he said. Thoria hesitated.

“Don’t laugh,” she said, and stepped out into the light. Following, Link spluttered at the sight of her. The heat of the armoury had turned her hair into a frizzy tangle, shortening her long, straight locks into a curly halo about her head.

“I said don’t laugh!” Thoria protested, swinging one of the sacks at him. “Arsehole!”

“I’m sorry,” Link gasped, bending over. “I just…” he continued to laugh.

Thoria waited, her arms folded, tapping her foot, until he recovered.

“Right,” he said, wiping his eyes. “Test these out. I want to make sure they work for you before we go.”

“They look fine to me,” Thoria said, her expression still decidedly unimpressed.

“I need to be sure,” Link said, sobering. “The right weapon can be the difference between life and death.”

Thoria rolled her eyes, but accepted the spear. She spun it in an elegant arc, twirling it over her head, before catching it and jabbing forward. Despite her hair, she moved through the air like a dancer. Link found his breath caught in his throat. He watched as she approached and swapped the spear for the bow, unhooking it from his limp grip.

“What’re you gawping at?” she asked.

“Nothing.”

Thoria reached over his shoulder and plucked a few arrows from his quiver. The movement pressed her chest against his, driving all but the most lustful of thoughts from his mind. She fired them rapidly into the target. Her chest bounced as she released each arrow, and his mouth went dry.

“All good,” she said. “Anything else we need?”

“No,” Link said. He couldn’t think straight. He shook himself. He was supposed to be detaching!

“Nothing else,” he clarified. “We need to rest. I’ll see you in the morning, we’ll want an early start.”

“Gimme your hat,” she said, reaching for it.

Link leaned away. “No! Why?”

“My hair,” she said, pointing. “Looks like someone shat in God’s beard.”

“I didn’t realise you cared,” Link said, chuckling as she made another grab for his hat.

“I don’t,” she replied. “But I don’t want any of your nobles to drop dead at the sight of me.”

Link relented after teasing her a few more times, allowing her to swipe it from his head and jam it on her own, stuffing her tangled mane underneath. It suited her rather well, and he wondered if his spirit had ever been housed in a woman. He could not remember it ever being so.

At her door, he stepped away from her embrace. Thoria gave him a puzzled look, but shrugged, holding her weapons and hemp sack of food. She returned his hat and closed her door slowly, keeping her eyes on his until the door barred her from view.


	40. 40 - Link

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Archive Warnings Apply for this chapter

As the sun rose, Link and Thoria rode out from the castle and into Hyrule fields. Link closed his eyes, relishing the cool breeze on his face as Epona galloped beneath him. The summer was on the turn, and though the weather promised to be hot, the morning was blessedly cool and fresh.

Thoria was astride a golden mare, a sprightly young creature with boundless energy, borrowed from the castle stables. She sat a little awkwardly in the saddle, and her knuckles were white as she gripped the reins. She was in cream travelling trousers, and her long-sleeved shirt was a dark brown, matching her boots. Her bow was tied across her back, a knife strapped to her hip, her spear tied to the saddle. Link’s own weapons and new shield were slung across his back.

Wordlessly, they rode across the fields, Link keeping his eyes peeled for danger. The further they rode, the lighter his heart felt, as though a great, oppressive weight was being lifted with every hoofbeat.

The sun was high in the sky as they reached Kakariko village. Dismounting, Link handed over their steeds to a friendly stableman, whose eyes went wide as he took in Link’s garb. Swallowing his frustration, Link paid the man and turned before anyone else recognised him. He would speak with the villagers after the dragon was dead. Now, he had to focus on his task, and he had no time for lengthy greetings and introductions, and even less for small talk with people he hadn’t seen for years. A little way from the buildings, he stopped to stretch the saddle-ache from his legs, Thoria doing the same.

“We’re on foot from here,” he said when they recovered, beginning the walk towards Death Mountain.

“Oh, is that why we stabled our horses?” Thoria said.

“Don’t be an arse.”

“Takes one to know one.” Thoria pushed his shoulder. “So, what’s the plan?”

“Find the nest,” Link said. “I imagine it would be in a cave. Dragons seem to like caves. Once we’ve found it, we can go from there.”

“Go from there. So… you don’t know?”

Link rolled his eyes. “If it’s asleep, we’ll sneak in and kill it quickly and quietly. That way, we’re less likely to be cooked alive.”

“And if it’s awake?”

“Pray,” Link said. “I would advise you stay as far away as possible and shoot it. I’ll do most of the work, you just need to keep it distracted so it doesn’t eat me.”

“I can do that.”

“And if I tell you to hide, you do it,” Link said, fixing her with a stern glare. “If I tell you to run, then you run like Ganon himself is after you. I can handle this, but I don’t want you in danger.”

“Okay, okay, I got it. Sheesh.”

Link shook his head, praying to the Divines that the beast was sleeping. As much as he was trying to distance himself, the thought of Thoria in danger, hurt, or even worse sent a coldness through him. He couldn’t think of it. If he allowed himself to be distracted, the dragon would end them both. But all the same, his eyes slid sideways, taking in her face and form as they walked.

They journeyed on, climbing up the metal grating and traversing the slopes, moving away from Goron City. At a gap in the path, Link pulled out his clawshot. For a moment, he wondered if he should go first and throw it back to Thoria, but he didn’t want to risk it. The first time he had used the weapon, his shoulder had nearly come out of its socket. Steeling himself, he brought her close to him, his heart leaping into his throat as she wrapped her arms around his neck, and her legs around his waist.

On the other side, he disentangled himself as quickly as he could and hurried on, his pace swift, trying to keep in front of her until his blood flowed back to his hands.

Thoria kept glancing up at the volcano towering above them, its ring of smoke dark against the sky.

“It’s not live, is it?” she asked, apprehensively.

“Hm?”

“The volcano. Is it active?”

“Not often,” Link said. “It might spew out a few fireballs here and there, but they rarely fall much closer than Goron City.”

“I’m not sure I’m comfortable being near a live volcano,” Thoria said.

“Near it? That’s nothing. I’ve been _in_ it.”

“You’re nuts.”

“Thank you.”

“Welcome.”

As they crested the top of a slope, Link raised his hand. Thoria stopped instantly, and they gazed over the wide, flat area.

The ground was scorched and dry, and in places, the rock walls and floor seemed to have melted, the rock puddling and dripping, frozen in place.

“It’s here,” Link said, his voice low. “Keep quiet and follow me.”

Thoria obeyed, creeping after him as he tiptoed forward.

“There,” he said, pointing. Up ahead was a cave, and at its entrance lay several charred bones. Bones of the cattle and sheep it had stolen and slaughtered, leaving the people of Kakariko with less for themselves. They would struggle in the winter. Link thought of Colin, hauling trade between here and Ordon. Ordon would have to supplement Kakariko if the dragon kept on killing, meaning his friends would also starve, if it was allowed to live.

Wordlessly, Link went on, his mouth a grim line. Thoria was close at his heels. He stopped again at the mouth of the cave and peered in. The cave was deep enough to house a whole stable of horses, the stone ground cracked and covered with loose pebbles from where the dragon had walked. And at the back…

“Oh my…” Thoria whispered. “It’s _magnificent_.”

Magnificent was certainly a word for it. The dragon was large, though not full grown, with deep red scales. It was curled up like a cat, its tail wrapped around its snout. Its side rose and fell with its deep breathing.

“I’ve never seen _anything_ like it! Do we have to kill him?” Thoria asked, her voice low, as Link crept forward.

“Yes,” he said. “We have to.”

“You said they’re intelligent,” Thoria whispered. “Can’t we just reason with him instead?”

“Not a chance. It’s decided this is its home, it won’t leave.” They were so close now that Link could feel the heat emanating from its scales.

“I can be convincing,” Thoria said. “Come on, Link. Look at him! He’s beautiful. It would be wrong to kill him.”

“It would be wrong to let it live,” Link said. He raised his hand to the hilt of his sword, but Thoria grabbed his arm.

“Wait, let’s go back out a second and talk. Can I at least try?”

“It won’t work,” Link growled, wrenching his hand away. “Trust me, I’ve seen enough of these creatures to know that all they do is burn and eat.”

“Surely there’s something we can do!” Thoria hissed. “Look, let’s just go back outside a minute.”

“No, it needs to die,” Link said, turning to glare at her. She raised a finger to her lips, her eyes intense.

“Such an incredible creature should not be so wantonly murdered!” she said.

“It’s _not_ murder!” Link said, his voice rising. “It’s saving the lives and livelihoods of countless people! If this dragon decides to head to Castle Town-“

He stopped, watching Thoria. Her eyes were widening in her face, her mouth opening in a little “O” as her hand dropped to her side. She was staring at something behind him. Link swallowed as he felt hot breath on the back of his neck. A rich, rumbling growl began to reverberate through the cave. Link turned, wincing, and locked eyes with the dragon.

Its head was size of his body, balanced on a serpentine neck. The eyes were amber and glowing in the dark. It curled its lip and snarled, smoke trailing from between its teeth. Its jaws parted, and the back of its throat began to glow.

“CHEESE IT!” Thoria yelped. Link turned and bolted, slipping on the loose stones, as Thoria bounded ahead of him. The cave entrance was just ahead, daylight a bright circle against black stone.

Thoria flew out of the cave, skidding to a halt and looking frantically from side to side. Link cannoned into her, snatching her around the middle and fighting to keep his footing. From behind, there was an _oomph_.

Link threw Thoria to the side and turned as a fireball as large as the mouth of the cave roared towards him. He threw his hands up to shield his face and fell backwards, the fire washing over him in a scorching wave.

In less than a second, it was gone. Link sat up, swiping at the smouldering embers on his tunic.

“Are you okay?” Thoria cried, rushing to his side.

“Fine,” he said, patting his hair to make sure he wasn’t burning. “That was only a warning.” He shot Thoria a sharp look.

“I thought you said you knew dragons?”

Thoria looked sheepish. “I was thinking of a different kind of dragon.”

From the depths of the cave, the dragon’s growling was growing louder. Wincing, Link got to his feet. Thoria reached for her bow.

“No,” Link said, raising a hand. “You stay back.”

“But-“

“No buts, just stay out of sight, don’t do anything else. Go and hide.” Link unsheathed his sword and hooked his shield onto his arm as the glowing eyes of the dragon appeared in the darkness. Thoria remained where she was, glaring.

“I’m not going to just-“

“NOW!” Link barked. Reluctantly, Thoria withdrew, crouching behind a boulder. She unhooked her bow and nocked an arrow until Link shook his head at her. The ground seemed to tremble as the dragon approached.

It emerged fully from the cave, scales glinting blood-red and gold in the light. It reared its head back and roared, the sound seeming to shake the very ground he stood upon. Link bared his teeth and roared back, a challenge that paled in comparison to the beast before him. The dragon curled its lip, and to Link, it seemed to be in a mocking sneer.

Without warning, it pounced, clearing the gap between them in a single bound. Link leapt back, shield held high, swiping viciously at the approaching dragon. The tip of his sword skidded across the scales on its chest. He ducked as it bent to snap at him, throwing his shield-arm up and clouting the dragon across the snout. It grunted and shook its head, giving him time to dance back again, putting space between them. The dragon snarled, and spat fire his way. Link dodged to the side, the fire scorching the barren earth. He felt the heat wash over him and ignored it. He was too far from it to be in danger of burning.

He paced to the side, keeping his shield in front of him, his sword raised high, moving away from Thoria’s hiding place. The dragon followed him with his eyes, unwilling to move further from the mouth of the cave. Link feinted with his sword, testing his foe. The dragon jerked its head from side to side, avoiding the point of the weapon. Emboldened, Link darted forward, needling the dragon with his sword. It roared, and lunged for him, its snaggleteeth crashing closed just shy of his face. Link bashed his shield into the dragon’s face again, and was rewarded with a satisfying crack as he shattered one of its teeth.

The dragon jerked back, letting out a strange, keening cry. It spun, whipping its tail towards him. Link leapt over it, driving his sword down and slicing into the dragon’s flesh. It roared again and lashed its tail back and forth, whipping up clouds of dust. Purplish blood spun through the air.

Link stepped back smartly and hunkered down. He was only pissing it off. He needed to kill it before it became so enraged that it covered the whole canyon in flames.

The dragon snapped back around to face him, spitting short jets of fire. Link leapt, dodged, and rolled out of the way. The dragon snarled, and swiped for him, and Link responded with a sword swipe of his own, raking the blade across its scales. He bared his teeth. Such grazes would mortally wound most creatures, but the hide of a dragon was something else.

He swung his sword again and followed up with a jab, pleased to see the more powerful strikes cut the scales and draw the purplish blood out. The dragon keened as the sword sliced its knuckles, and it reared, driving its front paws into the ground. The earth shook, and Link stumbled. The dragon snapped forward again, Link barely raising his shield in time to block the deadly jaws.

He buffeted the dragon back, bashing with his shield, driving it back towards the mouth of the cave. The dragon retreated, tucking its head back, snapping, snarling, but unable to touch him. Encouraged, Link lowered his shield and swiped for the dragon again, scoring a line across its face. The dragon reared back, roaring, and Link crouched. Its chest was exposed. He readied his sword. He focused on his task. He saw Thoria’s white face peeping out from behind the rock, hands over her mouth.

Distracted, Link turned his head a fraction. His sword dipped an inch as his shield sank below his chin.

The dragon struck.

Pain exploded in his leg as Link was ripped from the ground, a scream tearing from his lips as the dragon bit down. He dropped his shield. He kicked at the dragon with his free leg and screamed again as it shook him, roughly. He felt its teeth sink into his leg, deep into the muscle, grating along bone. He swung for it, but it did not let go.

From below, a short, high scream of panic. Thoria.

The dragon stopped shaking him. For a moment, he hung limp, then the dragon opened its mouth and dropped him. Link plummeted to the ground, landing in a crumpled heap. Pain shot through him like electricity, the sharpness of it so much that he couldn’t even cry out. Above, the dragon was turning its head, as if in slow motion, its yellow eyes seeking its target, the source of the sound.

Link bared his teeth. He still held his sword. With an almighty effort, he thrust up, the dragon’s chest moving above him as it turned to investigate. The blade sank between its scales, and Link pushed on as the dragon howled. With a yell, Link yanked the sword back out, so hard that it flew from his grasp, tearing a great gash in the yellowy underscales.

The dragon roared and thrashed, scalding blood gouting from its chest. It reared and brought its front feet down, hard, talons as sharp as knives. Link grunted and rolled to the side, feeling the earth tremble as the dragon drove its paws into the ground. He seized fistfuls of brush and dragged himself forward, his leg screaming in agony with each movement. His head span with the pain. Above, the dragon roared again, and Link looked over his shoulder.

The dragon arched its neck, eyes locked on his. Lips pulled back over its teeth in a ferocious snarl, it inhaled, its throat glowing.

Link yelped and tried to throw himself back, but his leg dragged, caught on something, and he screamed. The dragon seemed to smile as smoke began to pour from its nostrils. Link scrabbled for his sword, his shield, anything, but there was nothing but charred brush and hard earth. Nothing to cover him, nowhere to hide.

It was too late, too late, the fire was coming. Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, it was coming, he was going to die in one of the worst ways, he was going to die, going to die, going to-

With a _thwock_ , an arrow sprouted under the dragon’s jaw, snapping its head back as a gout of fire burst into the air. The dragon shrieked its strange, keening cry. Stunned, Link looked back to see Thoria, white as a sheet and trembling, holding her bow and nocked arrow, aiming at the dragon. The beast writhed and snarled, lashing its head from side to side as its tail thumped the ground, whipping up great clouds of dust and ash and smoke that made Link cough. His head was pounding, and sickening waves of exhaustion were rushing over him. He fought against it, fought to stay alert.

Thoria tightened her grip on the bow, following the dragon’s movements, and fired again, the arrow landing squarely in the dragon’s cheek. It shrieked again as Thoria nocked another arrow. Link dragged himself along the ground, gasping as his ruined leg sent wave after wave of pain shooting through his body, sweat sheeting down his brow. The dragon shook itself, blood pouring from its chest, and locked its eyes on Thoria. In the silence that followed, Link heard her as though she were next to him.

“Oh, fuck.”

The dragon leapt and Thoria dropped her bow, reaching for the knife strapped to her side.

“ _NO!”_ Link yelled, as the dragon pounced, fire billowing from its jaws. Smoke boiled around the beast as it roared its keening cry. The ground shook as the dragon landed, thumping hard with its paws and tail, sending more dust clouding into the air. Fire flashed again. There was a scuffling, a scrabbling, and a snapping. Link tried to pull himself up, to run to her, to find his sword, her dropped bow, anything! But his leg refused to support his weight, and the pain was blinding.

He couldn’t see, couldn’t get up, couldn’t get to her. He howled at his body, urging it to respond to him, clawing at the earth, desperate to get to her, to get in front of her, defend her. She was good, she had time, if only he could just _move!_

Thoria screamed, once.

And then there was silence.

Link lay stunned on the ground. _No,_ he thought. _No._ It was all he could think. Dimly, he was aware of the dust beginning to settle. Dimly, he was aware of the small flickers of flames patching the ground. Dimly, he was aware of the pain in his leg. But most acutely, he felt as though something had reached inside him and torn out his soul. He shivered, a coldness creeping through him.

Something was moving in the dust now. A hazy something. The dragon’s head. Moving oddly. Jerkily. Close to the ground. As though it was eating. Link scrunched up his face and bared his teeth as his throat tightened.

“You bastard,” he whispered. And then, louder, “YOU BASTARD!” he snatched a stone from the ground and hurled it into the smoke, aiming for the dragon. The beast had better kill him, too. For if he lived, he would hunt down each and every dragon to ever exist, and he would slaughter them all, in the air, on the ground, in their nests. He didn’t care, but he would take back what they had stolen, he would not rest until-

The stone landed with a _thunk_ , followed by a sharp “ow!”

Link froze. For a long moment, he was afraid to breathe. Afraid to shatter the spell, the impossibility, the miracle. The dragon’s head shifted again, and slid to the side with a thud. A slender figure rose from the ground, smoke coiling around them. Limping, dishevelled, and panting, Thoria made her way through the smoke.

“Thoria!” Link cried, and tried to rise, his joy overcoming his pain. But only for a second, and he fell back down with a yelp as his leg reminded him of the state he was in.

“Link!” Thoria vaulted over the dragon’s tail and skidded to a stop in front of him. Delirious, Link grabbed her hands, laughing. He hardly noticed how pale his own hands were.

“You’re alive!” he said, reaching to pull her into a hug. Her face was covered in soot, she was soaked in the purplish blood of the dragon, and her hair was badly singed and curling from the heat, but aside from a wound on her shoulder, she seemed unharmed. Thoria pulled away, her face paling under the soot.

“Your leg…” she whispered, her face horror-struck. At last, Link looked down, and wished he hadn’t.

His leg was rent from his hip to his knee in a diagonal slash, the muscle twitching and blood soaked. Underneath, there was a streak of white bone. His trousers were drenched in blood, and he knew in that moment that he had already lost too much. Bile rose in his throat and he turned away, the pain suddenly sharper than before.

Thoria hissed a stream of unfamiliar curses.

“What do I do?” she asked. “How do I fix it?”

“You can’t,” Link panted, his heart beginning to race. He saw blood well up from the wound and he grimaced, closing his eyes. He had to stay calm. Slow his heart. Breathe. It would buy him a few minutes.

“The hell I can’t,” Thoria growled. “There must be a way.” She gripped his hand tightly, and snapped the fingers of her other hand.

“That flower! Red bale, bare, bane! Red bane! You said you can make healing potions out of it!”

“I don’t have any potion,” Link said. He cursed himself. Why hadn’t he packed any? He never would have made such a mistake before.

“I have the flower,” Thoria said, rummaging in her small satchel. “I picked and dried some. Here.” She pulled out a handful of curled red petals. “Eat it.”

Link managed a smile. “It won’t work, Thoria. I’m sorry. You need magic to make it work.” His heart lurched. He needed to say something. He stared desperately up at her. “Thoria…”

“Eat. It.” Thoria demanded, brandishing the petals. “If it doesn’t work, you die. But it might work, and you live. But if you don’t eat it, you die anyway.”

“Thoria,” Link said, as the cold in his body began to turn into numbness. “I need to tell you something.” _The prophecy,_ he thought. _She has to know! She’ll be in danger, she needs to flee!_ But it wasn’t all he wanted to say.

“Later,” Thoria said, pushing her fist towards him. Link took her hand and closed her fingers, curling them over the dried petals. He knew it wouldn’t work without magic. He met her eyes. She was blurry, out of focus, as though he was viewing her from underwater. He gave himself a shake, and his vision cleared just enough to focus on her eyes. They were wide and green, and full of fear.

But he smiled. Her face was so beautiful. He would sleep well, if only her image stayed in his mind. He closed his eyes. He was tired. But he needed to tell her… he needed to say…

He felt Thoria move next to him, shifting so that his head was in her lap. She reached over and put her hand on his injured leg. He barely felt it, barely felt the tingling warmth of her hand spreading along his wound. It was soothing and soft. It was comfortable here, his head in her lap…

“Stay with me,” he heard her say, as if from across a large room. “Come on, stay awake!”

“Thoria,” Link murmured. His eyes were so heavy. He wanted to open them, to see her one last time. “I…”


	41. 41 - Zelda

Zelda sat by her window, watching the sun sink lower and lower in the sky. She kept her eyes on the grounds below, moving them unseeing over the guards that patrolled. She looked beyond, to Castle Town, the people as small as ants, mere shapes moving in the distance, a sea of colour that ebbed and flowed with the evening’s approach.

Her drafted letter to Lord Dool lay unfinished on her desk. When the parchment had become more crossings-out than legible words, she had given up. Short of agreeing to marry the man, there was nothing she could do to soothe his bruised ego, save wounding him further. She had not the heart to continue. Not tonight.

In the corner, the parrot away chattered to itself. Dool, it seemed, had taught it to talk before sending it to her, and since it had arrived, she had endured its constant, cringe-inducing declarations of love.

Link and Thoria had not returned. Zelda knew it was unlikely they would be back tonight, the journey to and from Death Mountain was a long one, and Link would likely choose to stay in Kakariko, rather than traverse Hyrule Fields at night. And perhaps, if Thoria had been injured, or even died, Link would not make the journey back straight away. But still she sat, and watched. And waited.

Impa slid around the room, lighting the lamps as the sun dipped below the horizon, throwing the land into darkness. The warm glow filled the room, and Zelda fanned her face. Despite the turning of the seasons, the day had been almost unbearably hot, and her tower was stifling. The windows had been open to alleviate some of the heat, but when no breeze had entered, only hot air, she had ordered them shut again. Now, the air was cooling, and her balcony doors were flung wide.

“Zelda,” Impa said, softly. “I must run an errand. May I have your leave?”

“Of course,” Zelda said, only half listening. “Will you be gone long?”

“Perhaps two hours, or three. I must meet with a colleague.”

A Sheikah. “Very well. I will see you on your return.”

Impa departed without a sound. Zelda had to turn to see if she had really gone. Sometimes, it felt like Impa was still in the room with her when she was not, and the opposite was also true. Such was her training as a Sheikah, the deadliest assassins to walk the earth. Not for the first time, Zelda offered a silent prayer of gratitude to the Divines that the Sheikah were on her side.

She shifted in her seat, her eyes fixed on the outside world. She had been here for an hour. Though she knew that her Hero was strong and capable, she could not shake the feeling that something was very wrong. Zelda rose, smoothing her skirts. She began to pace her reception room, plucking a grape from the fruit platter, not tasting it as it burst between her teeth.

“Your eyes prettier than the sky, bawk!” the parrot said. Zelda ignored it.

She paced her way to her bedroom, picking up her hairbrush and running it through her smooth hair. It did not feel the same.

She let it fall back to the dresser and unlaced the back of her dress. She had no more duties to attend to tonight, and she was exhausted. Sleep would allow time to pass in moments, a jump into the future afforded to all who closed their eyes to the world, and opened their mind to dreams.

Shrugging out of the dress, she pulled on her nightgown and silk sleeping robe, eyes sweeping the bedchamber. Her sheets were smooth and unwrinkled, her drapes tied back and dust free. The pillows were arranged in a curved shape, and they almost looked like a pair of arms, inviting her to end the day and rest.

There was a soft noise from her reception room. Turning, Zelda strode out, surprised that Impa had returned so soon. She stopped in her tracks as she saw a black-cloaked figure running a hand over her mantlepiece. She froze, her hand conjuring a weak spell.

“It is unlike you to be alone, your Highness,” said the Mage of Shadows. “And perhaps unwise, in these uncertain times.”

Recovering, Zelda drew her robe close about her.

“Would you care to explain what you are doing, uninvited, in my chambers?” she asked, injecting authority into her voice.

“I am simply here to provide a report,” the Mage said, not turning from the fireplace. His hand still caressed the marble, and Zelda found herself thankful that his back was turned. The man’s gaze, though often unseen, was unnerving.

“Then please give it, and get out,” Zelda said.

“There is no way to send the stranger home,” the Mage of Shadows said, without preamble. “We have searched high and low for an answer, and even I could not divine the nature of her origin.”

Zelda sighed, her shoulders slumping.

“I thought as much. I appreciate you looking nonetheless, Mage. But I feel that our troubles may yet be over. Ser Link is tasked with slaying the dragon that is plaguing the west, and Thoria is with him. Perhaps she has been slain by the beast.”

The Mage of Shadows seemed to smile.

“That is not so, Princess. I sense her life force. The woman lives… so far.”

Zelda’s heart sank.

“This is it, then,” she said, lowering herself onto one of the sofas. “We are to be stuck with her until she brings the destruction that was foretold.”

“I think not, Princess,” the Mage said, his voice barely a whisper. It carried across the room like a shout. “I can still send her away.”

Zelda pursed her lips. She remembered the promise he had made. “Do you know where?”

“I can choose,” he said. “Or, I can allow fate to decide. Regardless, it will not be Hyrule.”

“How would you do it?” Zelda asked. She felt a morbid curiosity at the idea of sending the stranger into an unknown land. Teleporting a person into another world had long been used as an extreme method of banishment in Hyrule. A shiver ran down her spine. They had banished Ganondorf in the same way. Would the stranger return somehow? She had crossed from her world into theirs, after all.

Perhaps she had been banished from her own land? What crimes had she committed? She trembled. She would be inflicting this blight on another land. It felt wrong, but what choice did she have? Hyrule had to come first.

“I would cast a simple spell,” the Mage said, waving his free hand lazily. Zelda noticed that he wore a large ring on his index finger, a ring of silver set with three large sapphires. Above his fingers, smoke coiled, taking the form of two figures, one hooded, one long-haired and curved. “She would obey my every command.” The curved smoke-figure began to bow, and dance, and then fell to its knees, seemingly begging.

“I would lead her to a quiet place,” the Mage continued, the hooded shadow-figure taking the other by the hand. “I would open a portal, and she would step through.” The hooded figure gave a push, and the curved one fell, dissipating into nothing. Zelda fancied she heard a scream, faint and thin, just on the edges of her hearing.

“That would be all.” The Mage said, the smoke vanishing. “A simple task, and no one need know. Of her disappearance, one could simply say she fled. A squadron of guards sent to look for her, and fail, and then you never need worry again.”

Zelda took a breath.

“Very well,” she said. “We will wait for Ser Link to return from his task. Perhaps the stranger will still perish in the meantime, but if not…”

“She will trouble you for a short time only,” the Mage said. He gave a deep, almost mocking bow. “I shall await your word. Good evening, your Highness.”

And with a flash of light that left her blinking, the Mage of Shadows was gone.

Zelda shivered, her skin prickling. No matter that he was loyal to her, the man still made her flesh crawl.

“Your lips are pink roses and your bosom is lovely and small!” the parrot sang.

“Oh, shut up,” Zelda said, and threw a cloth over the cage.


	42. 42 - Link

Awareness came to him slowly, a vine creeping across an earthen, leaf littered floor. One by one, the tendrils of his mind loosened themselves from the all-encompassing blackness of sleep, and gradually, Link became awake.

He felt stone beneath his back, cool and warm all at once. His head rested on a thin pillow, the padding almost non-existent. A rough blanket covered his body, and his arm rested on something by his side. A weight was on his chest.

His eyes fluttered open. He found himself in a dimly lit, stone chamber, lying on a stone bed. The reddish light of the lamps and the sparse furnishings told him in an instant that he was in Goron City. He scrunched up his face. How had he got here? He remembered fragments, smoke and boiling fire, tearing teeth and ravaging claws. The dragon. The fight. Thoria.

He groaned, and tried to rise. The weight on his chest shifted, and Thoria sat up, his arm sliding off her shoulders. She blinked rapidly, her eyes widening. Her hair was a frazzled mess, her face still covered in soot.

“Link?” She covered her mouth. “You’re alright?”

“I… think so,” he said, his voice hoarse. “How did we-“

He stopped. Thoria’s eyes were brimming with tears. She fell forward and wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him so tightly he thought his head would come off.

“I’m so sorry,” she wept. “It was all my fault! All my stupid, stupid fault!”

“What are you talking about?” Link said, trying to rise. When Thoria did not let go, he settled for patting the back of her head. Her hair was badly singed, coarse under his fingers. As her shoulders shook, fighting her anguish, he found his arms sliding around her back and pulling her closer, a deep, longing ache eased at her touch, a half-healed wound soothed by cool water, a starving stomach filled. She smelled of woodsmoke on an autumn morning.

“I wanted to see the dragon,” she said, her voice breaking. “I didn’t want to kill it, and it woke up. It’s my fault you were hurt.”

“No, it wasn’t,” Link said, “I was the one who started shouting. It was my fault for not being more aware, not thinking straight.”

“Shut up,” she mumbled, and went very still. Suddenly, she launched herself away, rubbing her face and clearing her throat. “You’re fine now. That’s what matters.”

Link couldn’t help but smile, though the loss of her warmth set his heart to aching again. “What happened?”

Thoria sniffed and glanced at him, her eyes red. She smiled bravely.

“When you fainted, I started shouting,” she said, flexing her hands in her lap. “I managed to get the attention of some Gorons. They knew you.”

Link was unsurprised.

“They picked you up and took you here, and I followed. They gave you some of that funny potion, the real stuff.” Thoria shook her head. “I’ve never seen anything like it. Your skin just… knitted back together. You stopped bleeding. It was like you were never hurt.” She rubbed her hands together, sliding her knuckles across the palms of her hands. She stared down at them, a slight frown creasing her brow.

She took a breath and rubbed the back of her neck.

“You didn’t wake up. They… the Gorons, they told me that you’d lost enough blood that you were still in danger. You had to rest. So that’s where you’ve been. Resting.”

“How long for?”

“Three days. I honestly didn’t expect you to wake so soon.”

“I’ve always been a fast healer,” Link said. Three days? Zelda would be frantic. Navi, furious. He eased himself up a little and pulled the blankets off his body to inspect his leg. He felt blood rush to his cheeks and he immediately whipped them back over his torso. Someone had removed his clothes. Thoria glanced pointedly in the other direction, two lines of colour appearing on her cheekbones.

“Sorry,” Link said, his face burning. “I didn’t realise.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Thoria replied, fighting the smile that was spreading across her lips. Her eyes flickered to him and away again. She cleared her throat.

Link eased his leg out from under the blanket and checked it. There was a long, silver scar running from his hip to his knee, a slight dip in his skin all that was left of his injury. He flexed the limb carefully, pleased to see that his mobility was apparently unaffected.

“Could have been worse,” he said, injecting levity into his tone. Thoria shook her head.

“I thought you were going to die,” she said, her voice soft. “I have _never_ been so scared in my life.”

Link forced a smile. At the edges of his mind, the darkness was gathering. He felt his pulse quicken, and his hands turned clammy. He had nearly died. Again.

“I’m fine,” he said. “Thanks to you. Without your help I…” he broke off. The shadows billowed and he swallowed. Thoria looked to her hands again, rubbing them together, cupping them, caressing them.

“It was my fault in the first place,” she said, softly. “And when you fainted I…” she stopped, and shook her head. “You’re okay. That’s all that matters.”

She stretched, rolling her shoulders. “Gods above, I fucking stink. Blood and smoke and shit knows what else. I need a bath.”

“It’s a good idea,” Link said. “I’d recommend the hot springs here. They do a body wonders.”

“I’ll do that, then,” Thoria said, rising. As if on cue, the door to the room opened and a pair of Gorons crowded inside. Link knew them instantly.

“Ah, Brother! You’re awake!” Gorko, the larger of the two said, grinning. “You had us afraid for a while, there.”

“Your lady-friend set up such a hollering that we had to come down,” Koklo said, rubbing his knobbled head. “It’s a good job we did. All passed out and covered in blood, we thought you were dead.”

“Not me,” Link said. “Takes more than a dragon to do that.”

“Aye,” Gorko laughed. “Good that you’d stopped bleeding when we got to you. Looked like you’d started healing already. Wouldn’t have made it otherwise.”

“Yes, yes, we’re all pleased,” Thoria said. “Hate to interrupt, but I could really do with a bath…”

Gorko nodded. “Right this way, Sister.” He led her from the room.

“I’d stopped bleeding?” Link asked Koklo, as he came further into the room.

“I did not notice, my concern was getting you to the elder for healing,” he said. He offered Link a hand and helped him up, passing him a bundle. It was his clothes, washed and folded neatly. Link tugged them on, admiring the stitching on his trousers that fixed the tear from the dragon’s teeth. The needlework was exquisite.

“Our finest weavers did that,” Koklo said, proudly.

“I can tell,” Link said, admiring the work. Patterns of intricate red and orange ran along the tear, pulling the cloth together so expertly that it seemed that there was no tear at all. Link knew from experience that the material would somehow mend itself over time, much like skin, but without the scarring. He hoped the stitches would enable the cloth to fix itself more quickly.

Link stretched, feeling his muscles loosen as he twisted to and fro. His whole body ached, though he wasn’t sure if it was from the fight or from the stone bed.

“I think I could do with a trip to the hot springs as well,” Link said. Koklo chuckled and clapped him on the back, making him stumble forward. “I’m surprised Thoria didn’t go before,” he continued.

Koklo smiled. “She never left your side, Brother. Not for a minute.”

Link paused, staring up at the Goron. “She…?”

“Ah, before I forget,” Koklo pointed to the far end of the cave. “Your weapons are there, Brother.”

“Thanks,” Link said. His sword and singed shield were indeed there, along with Thoria’s bow. Link followed Koklo as he led him out of the cave and along a long, winding tunnel. The tunnel eventually opened out to clear skies and warm air. The sun was beginning to set, casting red washes of light across the purpling sky. Koklo pointed, and Link descended the slope alone, rounding a bend and coming across the hot springs in moments.

Thoria was already there, chatting animatedly to a pair or Gorons seated to either side of her. The steam curled about them, their figures hazy. A few other Gorons lazed about in the steaming, aqua water, enjoying themselves in the fading light. As the sun sank lower in the sky, strings of lanterns hung along the metal supports and railings glimmered into life.

Link dipped behind a rock and tugged off his clothes, folding them neatly. He moved back to the water, sucking in his breath as he entered, the water scalding hot and gorgeous. As Link waded further out, all his aches seemed to melt away from the feet up. He neared the Goron duo and Thoria, crouching so that the water rose to his shoulders. Thoria was still engaged in conversation.

“…and it’s just _fascinating_ how your people can get sustenance from rocks! I mean, are there certain types of rock you eat, or is it a little bit of everything? Do certain rocks have different nutritional composites, like potatoes have a lot of starch and meat has more protein? Or is it all much of a muchness and you gain a full spread of macronutrients no matter what kind? Or perhaps I’m just speculating here, you must have completely different digestive systems to other races so…”

Link found a seat opposite and watched her talk. The two Gorons were looking down at her with amusement as she chattered on, occasionally nodding or laughing. When Thoria paused to draw breath, they would take turns interjecting a quick answer, which set her off on another round of questions. Link grinned, feeling the heat of the water drain the soreness from his muscles. He let his mind loosen and drift, surrounded by friendly faces, cocooned in warmth, in the gathering darkness of the-

The alter.

Link jerked, his heart leaping into his throat. His gaze darted around the springs, feeling under the water for any kind of blade, a weapon, some sharp stone, anything! But there was nothing. The stone under him was smooth and worn, as comfortable as stone could be. He was fine. There was nothing to hurt him here.

He looked back to Thoria, who was nodding along as one of the Gorons spoke, explaining something with broad gestures from his massive hands. As he gesticulated, he cut through the steam, clearing the air. Her hair was plastered to her head, swept back from her face. It was shorter than before, and Link realised she had cut off the charred ends. Now it only reached just past her shoulders. Her bare, pale, beautiful shoulders.

“Link!” Thoria had noticed him. “Come over here!”

Link obediently shuffled closer, keeping his body tucked under the surface of the water. He avoided looking at Thoria, her skin pale in the soft light, her black hair trailing rivulets of water along her skin. As he neared, he saw a young Goron seated behind her, playing with her hair, braiding it in tiny, intricate patterns.

“I am so glad we’re here,” she said, as he found a seat close by. “I never thought I’d learn so much!”

“Your friend is a talkative one, Brother,” one of the Gorons said.

“She is as curious as a child,” said the other.

“Because I don’t know anything,” Thoria said, grinning all over her face. “All of this is new to me.”

Another Goron came wading through the water, holding a stone platter.

“For our Hylian guests,” he said, lowering the platter. On it were two stone cups of milk and skewers of roast meat. Link’s mouth began to water. He hadn’t realised how hungry he was.

“Ooh, thanks,” Thoria said, eagerly reaching for a cup and a skewer. As she reached, she rose from the water, exposing herself to her navel. Link felt his cheeks glow as he took his own portion and retreated, raising his knees and trying to cover himself without notifying his company of his predicament. He shook himself. _These thoughts had to stop!_

But she hadn’t left his side.

He chewed on his skewer to distract himself, barely noticing the light spices used to flavour the meat, or the juice that ran down his chin. He had to stop thinking of Thoria the way he was. Mooning after her like a lovestruck teenager was what had gotten him into trouble with the dragon in the first place, distracted by her beauty, concerned for her welfare. What would the princess think if she knew? He shuddered.

Zelda would be furious. She already suspected something was amiss. Thoria was part of the prophecy that promised destruction and damnation to Hyrule. He had to be on his guard. He had to watch her for signs of danger.

He looked over to her now. She was eagerly devouring the skewer, waving it delightedly and marvelling at the “flavour profile,” as she called it. Her eyes widened as she tried the milk, and she drank the rest of it quickly. Still chattering away, still learning all she could. Was she learning everything she could so that she could take over Hyrule?

No. Of course she wasn’t.

She had stayed by his side.

Link finished his meal quietly and moved to the edge of the spring.

“You are going, Brother?” one of the Gorons asked.

“Unfortunately,” Link said, rising. He ducked back down as Thoria turned, her eyes sad. “The princess will be expecting us.”

“True,” Thoria said. “I hate to leave but… I guess we have to.” She leaned behind one of the Gorons and produced a thin blanket, rising from the water and wrapping the material around herself in one fluid motion. “I’ll see you back at that cave, I need to get my clothes. I think they’ll be clean now.”

Link nodded, watching her go.

“Your lady-friend is a curious one,” one of the Gorons observed, sinking lower into the spring waters. “She is a good match for you, I think.”

“We’re just friends,” Link said.

“Friends become more than that, if the spirits guide you,” the Goron replied, his voice muffled. “Listen to them, brother.”

“Right.” Link stepped from the pool, the warm night air seeming cold against his skin, as steam rose from his body. He retrieved his clothes and struggled into them, before going to find Thoria.


	43. 43 - Zelda

Zelda was up before the sun broke over the horizon, seated at her window, gazing out over the dark land. The dawn that was coming brought the fifth day that Link had been away. She shivered. Something was wrong. She knew it.

Had the stranger harmed him? She would know if she had, surely? Or perhaps the dragon had got the best of her Hero, though she felt that this was untrue. No such creature could defeat him, he was the most capable warrior in all of Hyrule.

She glanced to the open door of her bedroom, where Navi’s snores were audible. Though her own sleep had been broken and slight, the fairy seemed to have no problem in slipping into a heavy slumber. Briefly, Zelda wondered how Link managed to sleep through such a racket each night, and wondered if she snored herself.

As the sun crept over the horizon, Impa appeared and guided her to the bathroom. As she sank below the waters, a thousand worries ran through her mind. At the fore was Link. Following him was the stranger, in all her dark mysteriousness. Following that was her council, snipping at her heels, questioning her every move. Next in line was Lord Dool. She shook her head. How could she refuse him without plunging Hyrule into an unnecessary war?

“I will spend this morning researching,” she told Impa as she soaped her hair. “It has been some time since I have delved into our archives. I wonder if there is something there that will help us?”

“I’m sure there will be,” Impa replied, her strong fingers massaging her scalp. “You are always able to find something.”

“I wish that were true,” Zelda replied. “I have been of little use of late.”

“Nonsense,” Impa said, combing a softening potion through her hair. “The kingdom would fall without you and your wisdom.”

Zelda chuckled, trailing her hands through the water. Impa had scattered cherryblossoms on the surface, and they bobbed amongst the bubbles. “I will not argue with you, old friend.”

“Who are you calling old?” Impa reached and gave her nose a playful tweak. “I am in the prime of my life.”

Refreshed, Zelda allowed Impa to dress her in one of her fine day gowns, a green, form-fitting thing with soft, pink pleats and intricate silver beading. The skirts flared only a little, held off her legs by a tiny wire frame. It was blissfully refreshing in the heat of summer, and though the days were beginning to cool, they were still hot.

With her hair unbraided, Zelda made her way to the Library, running her hand over the familiar book spines and scrolls, trusting her triforce to guide her. It gave only the dimmest of tingles these days, but it was enough. Zelda pulled an ancient and heavy tome off the shelf and moved to one of the desks, her favourite, by a window. It offered a superb view of the castle grounds.

Impa sent for breakfast, and soon, a rack of toast and side of fruit and cream was brought to her with a steaming pot of tea. No one was allowed to eat in the Library. No one but her. For she alone respected the books for what they were, and never spilled so much as a crumb.

Zelda journeyed through the history of the book, learning of lost artefacts and the ancient legends surrounding them. She smiled as she came across the Ocarina of Time, the historic and magical instrument that had been so helpful in their fight through time against Ganondorf. It was stored away now, in her private collection below the castle, along with fifty or so other objects gathered through history.

As the sun neared its zenith, Impa coughed delicately. Zelda looked up to find her at the window, a small smile playing about her eyes.

“He’s back,” Impa said.

Zelda leapt up. “Link?” her hands went to her hair. “Is… is he alone?”

Impa shook her head. “Thoria is with him.”

Zelda sighed. “That doesn’t matter. He is home, and safe!” She gathered her skirts, leaving her book open on the table. The scholars would return it to its place, and clear the debris of her breakfast. She hurried from the Library and along the corridor, down the steps and along another. She cursed the size of the castle. She had to be with him now! Her heart hammered against her ribs, her stomach somersaulting in place.

She almost skidded into the grand entrance hall, just as Link came through the great front doors, Thoria beside him. Zelda stared. She had cut her hair. The locks that had once flowed to the middle of her back now reached just past her shoulders. She fought off a glower. Long or short, her hair still framed her face prettily, and there was even a couple of honorary Goron braids woven into it, four stacked above her left ear. She recognised the pleats as the Goron rope-talk. The pleats in Thoria’s hair indicated honour, courage, intelligence and… she squinted. The fourth, nearest her ear, was alien to her. Was it beauty, or strength, or power? She shook herself. It did not matter.

“Ser Link!” Zelda called. He looked up, and away from the stranger. He gave a small smile and halted in place, allowing her to approach him. Zelda kept her pace slow, all the more time to drink in the sight of him. He was bruised, they both were, but otherwise seemed unharmed. His hair was windswept, his eyes almost luminous in his sunburned face. She swallowed, and ran her tongue over dry lips. Both he and Thoria bowed as she neared. Their clothes were travel worn, the shoulder of Thoria’s shirt torn, and Link had an interesting pattern woven into the left leg of his trousers. It seemed to be Goron in style.

“Ser Link, I am glad you have retu-“

“LINK!”

Navi zipped past Zelda’s ear and flew to their Hero, crashing into his face. He recoiled and stumbled back as Navi clung on, gibbering in her high voice.

“You were gone for so long! You scared me, don’t do that, you should have come back sooner!”

“Navi, gerroff!” Link tried to disentangle himself. Ordinarily, Zelda would have found the scene amusing, but her gaze was drawn to Thoria. The woman had been smiling softly, but the instant the fairy had appeared, the smile had vanished, to be replaced by an intense glare. Zelda shivered. She could almost feel the heat radiating from the stranger, and was slightly surprised that the fairy did not begin smoking at the wings.

Zelda took a step back. As Thoria’s head turned, the light caught her eyes, and they seemed to glow. A thrill of fear shot through the princess, and she held her hand behind her back, summoning a protective ward spell.

Navi finally let go of Link’s nose, and he sneezed as she settled on his shoulder, snuggling in close. Thoria’s eyes followed her until the fairy disappeared from her line of sight. Her lip twitched towards a curl, but when she turned to face the princess, her expression was once again benign. Zelda gulped. Had she imagined it?

“A-as I was saying,” she said, approaching, and careful not to meet eyes with the stranger. “I am glad you… both… have returned to us safely. Tell me. Is the dragon dead?”

“It’s dead,” Link said. “Thoria killed it.”

Zelda’s eyebrows shot up. She stared at the woman, who looked down and shuffled her feet. “You?”

“Uh huh,” Thoria said. “Highness. But Link did all the work. I just… finished him off, that’s all.”

Zelda frowned. “Ser, this is unusual. I would have expected you to land the final blow.”

“I would have,” Link said. “But I was unable.”

Zelda beckoned, and the pair began to follow as she led them into the nearest reception room, an ostentatious thing that she hated, as it was coloured almost entirely in orange and peach. It made her feel as though she was in a furnace.

“Tell me all,” Zelda said, seating herself. Link and Thoria followed suit, sitting next to each other in the middle of a four-seater sofa. His tunic clashed with the material, the green stark against the carroty colour. By contrast, Thoria’s cream and brown ensemble matched it well.

Link shrugged. “There is little to tell, Princess,” he said. “We approached the dragon asleep, but unfortunately it… sensed us coming and woke.” He glanced at Thoria, who gave a crooked smile in return. “I fought it, whilst Thoria distracted it with arrows.”

“Not really,” the stranger interrupted. “I-“

Link shook his head. “The fight was going well, but the dragon bit me. I could no longer fight. Thoria killed it, and saved my life.”

Zelda stared between the pair, her lips parted. Navi set up an almighty squeaking, and Link winced, twitching his ear.

“You should never have gone! Were you badly hurt? Do you have a scar? And YOU!” She left Link’s shoulder and flapped in Thoria’s face. The woman did not flinch. “You shouldn’t have been there! Distracting him, trying to get him killed!”

“She saved me,” Link repeated, as one of Thoria’s eyebrows rose in a graceful arc, gazing dispassionately at the furious fae.

“Only because she’d be killed if she let you die,” Navi snapped. “Link, can’t you see, she’s-“

“Shut the everloving fuck up,” Thoria said. Her voice was quiet, but it carried in the large room, each word as deliberate as stone. Zelda gaped at the profanity. Even Navi seemed to be stunned into silence. For a long minute, the silence bloomed, as Thoria stared the fairy down, who hovered stubbornly in front of her. Link edged away. Zelda struggled to find her voice. Thoria spoke first.

“Ser Link is only telling you the half of it, Highness,” she said, not taking her eyes of Navi. “Yes, I may have delivered the final blow, but we worked together to bring it down.”

“Were… were your injuries serious?” Zelda asked Link. Thoria glared at Navi until she retreated back to Link’s shoulder, snuggling against his neck. Link watched them nervously. He shook his head.

“Not really,” he said. “I’m alive. But I wouldn’t be without Thoria’s help.”

Zelda nodded. “I see. Well. I am pleased you slayed the dragon, Ser.”

“And Thoria,” he said.

“Yes,” Zelda agreed. “Thoria, if what Ser Link says is true, and I have little reason to doubt him, then we…” she hesitated, the words bile on her tongue. “We are in your debt. You saved the livelihoods of the people of Kakariko, and life of my Chosen Knight, the most valuable asset to my kingdom.” Impa rolled her eyes in the corner.

“I would reward you both,” she said. “A celebration is in order, to revel in your victory over the beast.”

Link nodded. “It would be an honour.”

Thoria touched her fingers to her lips. “It would. However, may I make a suggestion, your Highness?”

Zelda focused her attention on the other woman, keeping her gaze on her cheek.

“Forgive me if I speak out of turn, I am still learning,” she began. “However, would it not be wise to use this to celebrate Link’s victory? I am only a stranger in this land, after all.” Link turned to the woman and gaped at her.

“Don’t be daft,” he said. “Your part was as large as mine! You should be recognised for what you did.”

“Nuh-uh,” Thoria said. “The Hero of Twilight saved by a stranger? Come on. What sort of image does that present?”

“Like I give a f-“ he stopped himself, throwing a guilty look Zelda’s way.

Zelda thought it over. “You make a good point. To celebrate a stranger, a woman, who is neither Gerudo nor Sheikah, at the same level as my Chosen Knight would raise questions among the nobility.” Zelda did not want to celebrate the woman at all. She wanted her _gone_. “But…” she hesitated again. “I should reward you nonetheless.”

She rose, indicating Thoria rise as well. She blinked, and got to her feet. Zelda approached, noting that even in her short heels, the woman stood taller than she. Her eyes were level with Thoria’s nose. She was relieved. The thought of experiencing the dread of looking into her eyes again turned her stomach to water.

“Thoria,” she said, laying a hand on the other woman’s shoulder, feeling hard muscle beneath. “I would name you Lady, in light of the service you have provided, the slaying of the dragon and in saving Ser Link’s life.” She removed her hand. Thoria nodded, a childlike grin spreading over her face.

“Thank you, your Highness. I am honoured.”

“Please be aware,” Zelda said. “The title _is_ honorary only. You are still a stranger to us, and as such, will hold no lands nor power. Are we clear?”

“Crystal, your Highness.” She glanced at Link, who was gazing at the pair of them in astonishment. He grinned as Thoria winked at him, and Zelda stepped back. He threw a cautious glance her way.

“Do we have to throw a party?” he asked, his voice small.

“Of course,” Zelda smiled down at him. “Your victory demands it! We will begin preparations at once, and we shall hold a grand feast tonight!” She turned to Impa. “Send word to the appropriate people. And speak with the royal tailor, Lady Thoria will need a dress.”

She smiled again, and followed Impa from the room.

“I cannot believe it,” she said, catching her aide up. “Do you think they are being truthful?”

“I believe Ser Link is hiding the severity of his injury,” Impa replied. “But I believe they were honest in their defeat of the dragon.”

“What does it mean?” Zelda mused aloud. “For her to kill it, and not him?”

“I wouldn’t read too much into it,” Impa advised. “The beast is dead, and that is all that should matter.” She smiled. “Would you like me to escort you back to the Library? I believe I have some preparations to make…”

“No, go. I will be fine,” Zelda stepped forward and embraced her. “I am fortunate to have you,” she said. “I hope you were not offended by my saying Link is my most valuable asset?”

“Never,” Impa said, squeezing her tightly. “Now, go and do your research. That is an order.” She winked, and strode away, her cloak swirling about her feet.

For a moment, Zelda looked back to the reception room, the door closed. She longed to go to Link, to sit with him a while, and hear of his adventure, to drink wine and soothe any hurts that he had. But she must continue her research. She grimaced as she spied a messenger arrive with yet more gifts from Lord Dool, the garish yellow bright against the white marble floor. She ducked into a corridor and hurried away.

Dool was a growing problem. His daily letters and insistent tone worried her greatly. He would be at the celebration, all the nobles would be. She would have to make small talk with him, and all her other suitors. She grimaced. Hopefully there would be little trouble.


	44. 44 - Link

“ _Why_ did you say that?” Link groaned, pushing his palms into his eyes. “I hate parties at the best of times, but especially when they’re all about me.”

“Who hates parties? Weirdo,” Thoria said, pottering about the reception room. She picked up an ornamental plate, investigated a vase of yellow dill, and ran her fingers over the dark wood of the cabinet.

“Well, _I_ think it’s fantastic,” Navi said, from his collar. Her fingers tickled at his neck, and he struggled not to bat her away. “Link deserves all the recognition he can get for being so heroic.”

“For once, we are in agreement,” Thoria said, her tone dry. Link frowned.

“Whatever,” Navi sneered. “Just don’t try anything at the party. I’ll be watching you!”

“Oh, really?” Thoria kept her back to them, her hands clasped behind her, gazing up at a painting of persimmons in a bowl. “Good idea. I’m lethal on the dancefloor.”

As Navi began to squeak a rebuke, Link cupped his hand and took her from his shoulder.

“I’m starving,” he said to the fairy. “Could you go ask Mallory to rustle something up? I feel like I could eat a whole cow.”

“I’m not leaving you alone with her,” Navi hissed. “She could hurt you!”

Link gazed plaintively at her. “Come on. I’m really hungry.”

Navi pouted. “Fine. But I’ll be right back.” She fluttered into the air and out of the open window, shooting daggers at Thoria as she went.

Link heaved himself to his feet and ambled over to where Thoria was still exploring the cabinet.

“Are you well?” he asked.

“Just a bit tired and sore,” she replied, opening the cabinet doors. “I guess you are too.”

“I am,” Link agreed. “But I meant… about Navi.”

“I’m just fed up with her needling me all the time,” Thoria said, sticking her head into the cabinet. “Ooh, what’s this?” She emerged, pulling a crystal bottle of amber liquid with her.

“I can understand that,” Link said. “That’s whisky,” he continued, nodding at the bottle. “It’s rare. Zelda only brings it out on special occasions.”

“Well, would you agree this is a special occasion?” Thoria waved it. “I’ve just been made a lady, after all.”

Link grinned. “You’ve always been a lady to me.”

Thoria’s brows rose as Link bit his tongue, feeling the blood rise to his cheeks.

She reached back into the cabinet without a word, and brought out two crystal glasses.

“We shouldn’t,” Link warned. “I meant it when I said it was rare. She’d notice.”

“She’s a princess,” Thoria said, popping the crystal stopper out. “She’s got more money than God. She can get more.” She stuck her nose over the neck of the bottle and inhaled. “ _Holy_ shit. That’s good stuff in there.”

Without waiting, she poured two generous measures and stoppered the bottle again. Link winced at the obvious difference in volume. With a smirk, Thoria handed him a glass.

“To new titles and dead dragons,” she said, raising her glass and taking a sip. She closed her eyes as a smile spread over her face.

Link tried his own. The bite was sudden and yet subtle, smoky and full of flavour. The single sip alone told him the bottle was worth hundreds of rupees.

“Worth it,” Thoria said, heading back to the sofa. “If anyone asks, Navi said we could.”

Link chuckled and joined her, his elbow brushing hers.

“I can drink this stuff like water,” Thoria said, leaning back with a sigh. “It was my favourite at home.”

“Yeah?” Link shifted so he was facing her, the revelation of a new memory catching his interest. Her head was resting on the back of the sofa, her eyes closed. “What else did you like?”

“Not sure. But I know I _hated_ rum.”

“Why?”

“Dunno. But I get the feeling that I had an argument with it when I was a teenager, and we never made friends again.”

Link laughed. “I had a similar experience with cherry liqueur,” he said. “I was thirteen. Ilia and I got into Bo’s cask one night. I can’t remember ever being that ill in my life!”

Thoria sniggered. “Ah, it gets us all at some point.”

“I can’t even look at a glass of it without feeling queasy,” Link admitted. “Even thinking about it turns me a bit queer.”

“Drink more whisky,” Thoria advised. “That helps settle a stomach.”

“No, that’s ginger,” Link said. “Whisky helps clear a head cold.”

“Ooh, get you with your fancy knowing things.”

“Speak for yourself, Ms Walking Library,” Link teased.

“I am not!” Thoria swatted at him.

“Oh, sorry, _Lady_ Walking Library!”

“Fuck you!”

Link grinned and took a gulp of whisky as laughter bubbled up within him. It seared his throat and sent fire into his belly. “You are. I’m sure you remember everything you read. We won’t have a use for the Library soon, people will just have to ask you.”

“You overestimate my powers, Ser,” Thoria replied, draining her glass. “ _Damn_ that’s good stuff!”

“It really is,” Link agreed, draining his own.

“I want another one,” Thoria said, rising.

“Nope,” Link said, catching her arm. “Don’t push your luck, they’ll definitely find out.”

“Who’s to say it wasn’t some noble?” Thoria said, slipping his grasp and skipping to the cabinet. “After all, they’re all lazy, greedy, good for nowts!”

“You’re a lady now,” Link said, chasing her. Thoria squeaked as he caught her round the middle. “So that makes you a just as bad!”

“Hell no,” Thoria said, wriggling, reaching for the cabinet. “It’s _honorary._ I’m as common as muck and proud of it!”

The whisky was still burning inside him, spreading through his veins. He grinned and tugged Thoria away from the cabinet, spinning her to face him. For a moment, they stood nose to nose, his arms around her waist, her hands on his shoulders. Her smile faltered as she looked into his eyes.

Link just stared. They were a thousand shades of green, with a black ring around the iris, and a starburst of hazel around the pupil. He could see himself reflected, his lips parted, his gaze softening.

“I…” he released her and stepped back. “We should go. And do… stuff.”

“Yeah,” Thoria said, turning away and closing the cabinet. “Stuff.”

Link held the door open for her and they began a meandering route through the castle. Their direction was random, and Link was content to just walk as he fought with himself.

He was honour bound by his duty to watch Thoria in case she ever did show any hint of being dangerous, but he could not do so if he allowed himself to feel the way he was. But for all his efforts, his heart remained unchanged. He stole a glance at her as they went, walking almost hip to hip, her expression passive curiosity as they passed countless tapestries and paintings and statues. The more he looked, the more he noticed how her lashes were the perfect length for her eyes, how the glow of her cheek was almost as though someone had painted it, the hollow of her throat gentle and inviting. Would it really be so bad if he just… gave in?

“Oop, sorry,” she said, as she bumped into him.

“No problem,” he replied, dismayed that the brief contact could send such a surge of energy through him. He set his jaw. He couldn’t give in. The kingdom needed him to be strong.

“I guess there’s going to be dancing at this party of yours,” Thoria said, pausing by a tall, arched window. She leaned on the sill and looked out, the view revealing the roof of the stables, far below.

“Naturally,” Link said, glad for the distraction. “Music, dancing, drinking, eating. Nobles from all over the kingdom will attend, lording it over each other, showing off.”

“The drinking and eating I can do,” Thoria said, absently. “How will the nobles be showing off?”

Link shrugged. “The only way they can, their wealth. They’ll bring extravagant gifts for the princess, arrive with an entourage of lackeys, and wear as many jewels as they can.”

“Hm. Lucky there are no pickpockets or thieves in the castle,” she said.

Link nodded. “No one gets in without an invitation,” he said. “And no one here, as far as I know, is a skilled thief. I-“

He paused, peering at her. Her cheeks were still glowing, and she seemed to be fighting a smile.

“What did you do?” he asked.

She sniggered and reached inside her blouse, causing Link’s own cheeks to burn hot, and produced the crystal decanter, now only three quarters full.

“I thought you were supposed to be watching me?” she giggled, waving it.

“For Din’s sake!” Link snatched the bottle and frantically looked for a place to hide it. “Are you mad?”

“No, tipsy.”

“What if you were caught with it?”

Thoria smiled. “I won’t be. And don’t worry,” she placed a hand on his arm. “I won’t go pinching things from the nobles. I just wanted to show off.”

“And get drunk,” he chided.

“Don’t you?”

Link looked at her. He looked at the bottle. He gave a dry laugh.

“A little,” he admitted. “It’s been a hell of a week.”

“Good!” Thoria said. “I can only dance when I’ve had a few. And, considering I don’t know anything about the kinds of music you have here, or the dances, I’m going to need you to teach me.”

“What makes you think I know how to dance?” Link asked, uncorking the decanter and tilting it back.

“You know more than me. I only know a few dances from home.”

“Fine,” he said. “I’ll try.”

“What about the music?” she asked as they moved on again, plucking the bottle from his fingers and taking a healthy drink. “I’ve not actually listened to any since I’ve been here. I miss it.”

“I could play you some,” he said. “It’s been a while, but I’m sure I can give you an idea.”

“You play?” Thoria grinned, her eyes lighting up like a child’s. “What instrument?”

Link shrugged. “Ocarina, harp, lute and piano,” he said.

“Get you!” she said, giving him a playful shove. He stumbled a little. “I bet you sing and all.”

“A bit,” he admitted.

She laughed. “Of course. Sing something for me!”

“I-“ Link hesitated. “Not right now.”

“Ah, why?” she pouted. “You shy?”

“Incredibly,” he said.

“I can’t sing worth a sausage,” she said. “Someone once said I sounded like a cat trapped in a bin with a rottweiler.”

Link laughed. “What’s a rottweiler?”

“A big ol’ dog. Cute as anything.”

Struck by sudden inspiration, Link took her hand.

“Come with me,” he said. Pulling her along the corridor, he led her to his rooms. As he shouldered open the door and pulled her inside, Thoria went very quiet, gazing around the rooms he had made his home over the last decade, her eyes roving over the assorted oddments he had collected over the years. A woven basket from Kakariko, a sandstone sculpture from the Arbiter’s Grounds, a carved bone pendant from Zora’s Domain. Ilia’s horse whistle.

Link became very aware of how untidy it all was. The bed was unmade, his spare boots lying in the middle of the floor where he had kicked them off. His sleeping clothes were strewn over the back of his chair. Embarrassed, he wondered why no one had been in to tidy whilst he was away, and then berated himself. He should not expect such things.

“Balcony,” he said, ushering her forward. Thoria obediently went to the great, glass doors and pushed them open. The evening air rushed in, bringing scents of summer flowers and oilsmoke. Link pulled open his wardrobe and dug around in the back, finally pulling out his lute.

“You still got that whisky?” he asked. She nodded. “Okay. Follow me. And for the love of Hylia, be _careful_.”

He climbed onto the balcony railing, his lute slung across his back. Thoria readjusted her blouse and followed, her feet steady. For a second, Link regretted his choice. She had been drinking. They both had. It was not safe. But the whisky burning in his own blood made him bold. He winked, and leapt off the railing to the balcony next to them, where thick ivy grew up the walls. He dug his hands in and began to climb.

“It’ll hold us,” he called down. “I’ve done this a lot.” He looked back and was surprised to see Thoria already balanced on the railing below him, her hands in the ivy, waiting for him to climb higher.

“The… the stone’s rough,” he said. “It’s easy to hold on. Just watch where you put your feet.”

Thoria gave a thumbs up. “Gotcha.”

Link continued to climb, feeling the breeze rushing through his hair. It was soft and cooling, washing away the warmth of the day. He reached the roof and swung up onto it, leaning back down for Thoria. She accepted his hand and allowed him to pull her onto the tiles.

“Woof. This is rather high,” she said, peering over the edge. Link put his hand out.

“Not too far. The tiles can be slippery.” He began to crawl along the roof, aiming for the top. Here, it was flat and a good five foot wide, to allow for soldiers to run along it if they ever needed to defend the castle. To one end there was empty space and a sheer drop to a lower roof, but the other end held a tower, and this was where Link headed. He sat against the stone and swung his lute around to his lap as Thoria settled in next to him.

She pulled the whisky out and took a nip before passing it over to him. He accepted, drank, and passed it back, fiddling with the pegs of the lute.

“It’s been a while,” he said. “It’s out of tune.”

“No rush,” Thoria said, leaning back. “It’s nice up here.”

“It is,” he agreed, strumming an experimental chord. It was still slightly out of tune. “I come here sometimes. When I need some peace and quiet.”

“Don’t blame you,” Thoria said. “I’m guessing there aren’t many who would brave that climb.”

“There are other ways up,” he said. “But they’re locked, and haven’t been used in years. There’s been no need.”

“Ah.”

The lute tuned, Link set his fingers to the strings and began to play. It was an old ballad, centuries old, if the history books were to be believed. It told a tale of love and loss, of a prince whose princess was stolen, and his journey to save her from the depths of hell itself. There were lyrics to it, but they were in Ancient Hylian, and no one knew what that sounded like. Link smiled. Except Thoria, of course. He would have to ask.

She was as still as calm water, and he could feel her gaze on him as he played. He did not look up. The music was freeing, a simple pleasure that he had not found the time to indulge in for years. Quietly, he was relieved that it had come back to him as easily as it had. His fingers did not falter, and all too soon, the last note sang softly through the air.

“That was lovely,” Thoria said. “You’re very talented.”

Link shrugged. “Practiced. Not talented.”

She chuckled, and leaned into his shoulder, sipping from the decanter. “Either way. I love it.”

Smiling, Link began to play again, choosing a livelier tune that set his foot tapping and Thoria’s head nodding along. This one had no words, and was designed to begin a night of festivities by getting the crowd in the mood for movement.

Next he played a typical court piece, something that was intended to be heard in the background, an unobtrusive, delicate melody that encouraged conversation. Thoria was quiet throughout.

As he finished and took the offered decanter from Thoria, he thought on his next tune. There were several simple, yet pretty melodies that came to mind, including the half-forgotten songs of a time long ago, when the power of the Ocarina of Time sent him across the kingdom with a few piped notes, or brought storms to the sky of Hyrule, or turned night into day. None of them seemed right.

Almost without thought, he began to play again. It was a piece he had composed himself, and though it was better suited to piano, he found the notes lent themselves well to the lute. It was a song that ached with sadness, with tension, and with beauty. He had written it in the months after the Twilight Crisis came to an end. He never spoke the name of it to anyone, but he privately called it _Midna’s Lament_. It was soft, the notes simple and repetitive. Played on the lute, it sounded as though two instruments were singing together, drawing out the notes his two hands would play on piano. It was devilishly tricky, playing two tones at once, but he found the motions came easy to his fingers, almost as if the Twilit Princess was playing along with him.

As the song ended, he blinked back tears, the rawness of the loss of his friend dulled by time, but still there, deep in his heart. Thoria sniffed. He turned to her and saw her cheeks were wet.

“Was it that bad?” he asked, his voice soft, a small smile on his lips. She shook her head and leaned on his arm again.

“It was beautiful,” she said.

 _Like you,_ he wanted to say. But he kept his silence. He set his lute down on the roof and stared out over Hyrule, tilting his head until it rested atop Thoria’s, as the setting sun sent washes of orange and gold over an ever purpling sky. It wasn’t much, he thought. But it was enough.


	45. 45 - Navi

Navi flew through the halls, throwing her vision left and right. Her little heart beat painfully hard, and her breath came in pants.

He had done it again. _She_ had done it again. Convinced her to leave under some ridiculous excuse and made quick their exit. The fool that she was, she had trusted her Hero. She swore violently in a language known to none but the fae, ignoring the flowers that wilted at her words as she passed.

Link was being so stupid! His stubbornness at refusing to see the danger was putting them all in peril. Now, the goddesses only knew where he was. For all Navi knew, he could be unconscious, or tied up in a cupboard, or even dead! She shuddered. No. She would know it if he had fallen.

Squeaking with righteous indignation, she searched high and low, cursing herself for her foolishness. She would never leave his side again, never! Not for an hour, not even a minute! If Link was under some sort of spell, or even if it was his own bullheadedness that kept him running headlong into danger, she alone had to be his guardian. She had not gone with him to fight the dragon, and look what happened! He had been hurt! She knew a lie when she heard one, he had nearly died!

The sun had set by the time Navi returned to the rooms she shared with Link. She looked hopefully to the bed, in the bathroom, even on the balcony, through the open doors, but he wasn’t there. She sniffed, stilling her wings and settling on the railing. He was being so stupid. The way he looked at the weird, smelly stranger, the way he hung on to every word! It wasn’t natural, wasn’t right! She had to find a way to stop it, but how?

She sighed, staring out over the castle grounds. Link’s rooms offered a fantastic view, and on a clear day, she could see right past the walls and out into Hyrule fields. It seemed like only yesterday that they were out together, strolling through the endless sea of green, him eating an apple, her nibbling on the slices he cut for her. He used to smile so easily back then.

Glumly, Navi began to twist the hem of her shift. He used to be more carefree. Easier to laugh and to joke. But the last year, ever since Zelda had sent him to a long forgotten temple to search for an ancient book, he had been different. Withdrawn. It had become harder and harder to draw a smile from his lips that lasted longer than courtesy dictated. She sniffed. He had never told her what had happened during his fight. The instant she sensed an enemy presence, she had fled, squirreling herself away in a crack until she felt it was safe. Link had ordered her to fly at the first sign of trouble, to keep her from harm. Part of her now wished she had stayed, to fight whatever it was that came after him.

As she reminisced, a soft sound came to her ears. It sounded like a lute, being played from far away. Navi listened. The air was still, but the sounds from the town surely wouldn’t travel this far? She focused. The tune was familiar, and then it struck her. It was an old, cheerful melody Link had composed, sitting with her under an old oak tree in the castle grounds! She began to shake, her tiny fists clenching. That was supposed to be their song! For the very best of friends, partners through time!

Navi launched off the railing and flew into the air, following the sound. She crested the roof and saw them at last, cuddled together by the tower, Link playing his lute, and the stranger watching him with a wicked smile as he sang, his voice as sweet as honey, as deep as Lake Hylia. In her frenzy, Navi could not even stop to appreciate the glory of his voice.

“THERE you are!” Navi shouted, flying to them. Link’s fingers slipped on the strings, producing a jarring jumble of notes. He looked up, his cheeks flushed.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” Navi said, hovering before him, hands on her hips. “You left me, again! I’m exhausted, flying all over the place looking for you!”

Link pressed his lips together, his eyes bright.

“Well?” Navi said. “What have you got to say for yourself?”

The stranger was mimicking his expression. She leaned over and murmured in his ear, a stage whisper that carried to Navi with little effort.

“You’re in trou-ble,” she sang.

Link spluttered and began to laugh, clinging to the lute as mirth overtook him. The stranger was laughing too. Navi gaped at them as they fell together, rocking from side to side.

“Ah, I’m sorry, Navi,” Link said, wiping his eyes. He caught the stranger’s eye and fell back into a fit of giggles, which set her off again. “I didn’t mean to leave you.”

“Well, you did!” Navi glared at them, sniggering together like a pair of naughty schoolchildren. “You shouldn’t be up here in the first place, not at this time of night! What possessed you to-“

She broke off. The rising moon glinted on a crystal decanter, sitting empty next to the stranger.

“Are you drunk?” Navi asked.

“Mmmm-nope,” Link said, giggling again. Navi rounded on the stranger.

“Is this your plan?” she hissed. “Climbing up here and getting him drunk so he falls to his death? Well, I’ve caught you now, so it won’t work!”

The stranger hid a smile behind her hand. Navi swelled with rage. She wasn’t being taken seriously!

“You should know better,” she chided Link. “It’s dangerous up here at the best of times!”

Link tried to look contrite, but the effect was spoiled because he kept spluttering with laughter. Navi settled down on the roof, glaring at the pair of drunkards.

“I’m going to stay right here until you sober up,” she said. “You’re not climbing down in this state.”

“Good idea,” the stranger said. “Wouldn’t want to overbalance.” She pushed Link’s shoulder, sending the pair of them off into another fit of giggles. Navi squealed.

“Stop that! It’s dangerous! And you!” she glared at Thoria. “You can go down. I don’t care if you break your neck.”

“Charming,” she replied. “But where I go, Link goes, so sayeth your King, Firefly.”

“Rude,” Link said.

Thoria shrugged. “Hey, I give like for like.” She brightened. “Aren’t those monsters? Like Likes?”

“Urgh, yes,” Link said. “Horrid things.”

“They look like someone turned a penis inside out,” she observed. Link laughed again.

“That’s disgusting! What happened to your head to make you think like that?” Navi squeaked.

“I blame my parents,” she said, and collapsed with laughter, Link wiping his eyes and tittering.

Navi wrinkled her nose. “You two need to-“

“Shut up,” Thoria advised. She huddled against Link, who picked up his lute again and strummed a few discordant notes. She looked at Navi from under her lashes, and Navi was struck by a sudden, great fear. The feeling was so strong that she leapt into the air and fluttered back, terror thundering into her very bones. Thoria curled her lip and turned her attention back to Link, who was mumbling his way through a bawdy tavern song about a girl and a donkey.

Navi shuddered. There was her proof that she was pure evil, and Link was too drunk, too stupid, too caught up in his silliness to even care. She folded her arms and sank back to the stone. Well, fine. So be it. She would have to save him, even if he didn’t want her to.


	46. 46 - Zelda

Zelda toyed with her food. The Great Hall was buzzing with conversation, the chandelier overhead bright and golden. The cooks had outdone themselves with the dishes presented at the king’s table. There were steamed and roasted vegetables drenched in butter, great rounds of cheese and fruit, and a whole roast boar in the middle of the hall. Wine flowed like water, and the attending nobility wore nothing but smiles above their finery.

Link wasn’t there. Neither he nor Thoria… _Lady_ Thoria, had arrived for the feast she had so considerately requested for them. Impa ate with deliberate bites beside her, her collar unclipped and hanging by her earlobe. Her father’s chair was empty, as were the two opposite her, where Link and Thoria should have been. Even Navi was nowhere to be seen. Zelda sighed. She had become accustomed to the fairy’s presence over the last few weeks, and she found that she missed the little fae.

She thought to the preparations she would have to make for the upcoming celebration. She would have to hand-write invitations for all the nobility in Hyrule, even those who lived in the castle. She would have to organise the decoration of the hall, and speak with her council about what they could realistically afford. She knew it wasn’t much, not if Hyrule’s defences were to be bolstered as she wished.

She allowed her mind to wander. What she wanted was a grand event, one that would go down in history as one of the greatest celebrations of the century. Link deserved to be celebrated for his deeds. Indeed, he had been. Following the defeat of Ganon, once the citizens of the realm had recovered somewhat, there had been a party in Castle Town that had lasted for days. She smiled at the memory. They had both been seventeen, just children, really, and had revelled in the delight of freedom.

Someone had filled the fountain with wine, and she gave a small chuckle when she remembered Link falling into it after trying to walk along the narrow edge, showing off and laughing. He had sat up, gasping, drenched in sweet, red wine, and the nearest townsfolk had needed no prompting to join him.

The food had been simple, the beer and spirits cheap and nasty, but what had made that party special was the atmosphere. Never had she seen such gay abandon, so many smiles, nor heard so many cheers and laughs. Link had been so eager to speak with everyone, to joke and jape and make a fool of himself. She realised, long after, that he had been trying to forget the Princess Midna. Her loss had been painful for Zelda, but for Link, who had spent almost a year with the Twili, it must have been agonising. She had not seen it at the time, fool that she was.

She forced another bite into her mouth. She longed for the same atmosphere, and hoped that this celebration would be its equal. Though the commons would not attend, as his victory over a dragon was not quite as grand as defeating the King of Evil, she felt he needed it.

She cast her eyes to the door again, willing him to appear. She would tolerate the stranger’s presence and make nice with her, for his sake. But he did not show.

She pushed her plate away as her food grew cold, preferring instead to sip steadily at several goblets of wine. She pondered on how she would make the celebration significant for her Hero. Dismayed, she realised that she had no real idea about what he liked.

He enjoyed weaponry, riding, and fishing. That was all she knew. How could she include such enjoyments in the festivities? Her mind was blank. Even if she did, the nobility would likely be less than impressed. She would have to ask Navi, the fairy knew almost everything there was to know about him.

The prophecy weighed on her mind, like tar seeping through the cracks of her defensive walls. The worst part of it was the certainty she had that _something_ was going to happen. But she did not know when, and she did not know how. The lack of knowledge frustrated her, and each time she thought of Link, her worry grew.

_Courage will kneel before a broken heart._

What did it _mean?_ Was it his heart that was to be broken? Or would it be hers? She gripped the stem of her goblet and raised it to her lips, noting the slight tremor of her hand. All she knew was that Lady Thoria would have something to do with it, but without proof, she could do nothing to prevent Hyrule’s impending doom.

She cursed, softly, under her breath.

The merry voices in the hall were too loud, the scents of food and wine and torchsmoke too distracting. She rose from the table without a word, and made quick her exit, choosing to leave through one of the smaller, side doors that led into a narrow corridor.

Impa was only half a step behind her. She felt a small pang of guilt, knowing her food had only been half-finished. Her mind heavy with worry, she made her slow and silent way to her chambers.

As soon as the door closed, Zelda kicked off her shoes. Her stomach rumbled. Away from the noise of the feast, she realised she was ravenous, and wished she had eaten more than the few morsels she had.

“Beauty beyond compare that the songs will sing of for ages!” her parrot squawked.

Zelda threw her shoe at the cage, causing the bird to protest loudly. She put a hand on her growling stomach.

“Impa…?”

“I’ll bring you something,” Impa said, placing a hand on her back and leading her to her bathroom. “First, you must relax.”

Zelda allowed her to strip away her dress and underthings as her bath filled with steaming water. She sank into it as Impa left. For a long while, she allowed her mind to drift, floating in the huge tub, trailing her hands along the surface of the water. She thought of nothing, allowing thoughts to run through her mind, focusing on none of them. But no matter how she tried, she could not stop Link’s face swimming to the surface.

She dashed her hand in the water, and his face rippled.

“Why were you not born a noble this time?” she whispered. “And why is it only now that I see you for the jewel that you are?”

The memories of her past lives were fleeting. Most of her knowledge came from books, ancient scrolls, and her historians. But she had glimpses of the past. She knew Link remembered much more of his past lives, and the Demon King remembered almost everything. This she knew from his possession of her, when their minds were, for an agonising time, as one.

She shivered. The hatred he felt for her, for her Hero. The boiling rage. The lust for power. And what power he had.

For the briefest time, she had been one with the Triforce of Power. And without her own relic to shield her, she felt it full force. It was intoxicating. It was liberating. The pure might of the Triforce of Power was like a storm held in her hands. And when Link and Midna drove his spirit from her body, its loss was anguish made physical.

She shivered and sat up in the bath. Her own triforce was _weak_. A small part of her longed to regain the power she had tasted. A larger part of her was terrified that such a desire showed that she had been tainted. But surely not. Yes, her temper was easier to rouse these days. Yes, she grew ever more restless and frustrated as her council sneered behind their hands at her, stalling her every attempt at peaceful and fair rule. Yes, she longed for the power to be able to shape Hyrule as she wished, to make it untouchable. A utopia for her people. Yes, she longed for the power to make her Hero love her the way she loved him.

But she couldn’t. She was the descendent of the Goddess Hylia. Her blood was not just royal, it was divine. She could not allow herself to be tempted. But the thought of Link by her side, in the castle, in the throne room… in her bed, was almost too much to bear. Her gaze hardened as she stared at the ceiling. She needed him back. A shiver ran over her flesh as she thought of his face once more. Perhaps it would not be so bad to indulge, to research the Triforce of Power, to see if she could augment her own abilities…

Impa reappeared after another hour, as the water began to cool. She helped Zelda from the bath and wrapped her in a thick, fleece dressing gown and led her to her reception room, where a steaming plate of food had been placed on her desk.

It was a whole, crisp bird, the size of a small cucco, the skin golden and seasoned with lemon and thyme. The accompanying vegetables were drenched in butter. Her mouth began to water as she sat to eat, enjoying each succulent morsel as though it was the first food she had tasted in weeks.

Across the room, the parrot’s cage stood empty and quiet.


	47. 47 - Link

Link awoke to a murderous headache. He groaned, rolled to his side, and forced his eyes open. He snapped them shut again as sunlight seared his eyes. Groggy, he pushed himself up, his head spinning, his mouth full of cotton. He reached clumsily for the water at his bedside, his fumbling fingers knocking the glass to the floor. He stared at it as it rolled away and considered reaching for it, but his head span as he leaned down, and he settled for drinking straight from the pitcher.

“How’s your head?” came a sweetly venomous voice.

Link peered blearily across the room, wincing at the light. Navi was sitting, arms folded, on her tiny bed. He mumbled something that might have passed for words, and forced himself to rise.

“Timesit?” he asked, leaning on the wall for support as he fumbled for his boots. He was still wearing his tunic and trousers.

“The tenth hour,” Navi said, pursing her lips. Link groaned.

“I missed breakfast,” he said. It was not a bad thing. His stomach was roiling, and the thought of food made him queasy.

“So did I,” Navi said, finally rising and fluttering over to him. “Happy?”

“Shh,” he said, waving his hand. “Noisy.”

“So sorry,” the fairy said, fluttering to his shoulder as he found his hat. “I suppose I shouldn’t speak so LOUD!” she yelled the last word in his ear. Link jumped and cursed, the sound like a knife burrowing into the side of his head. Seemingly satisfied, Navi settled on his shoulder and grumbled under her breath.

Link ambled out into the corridor and made his slightly unsteady way to Thoria’s room. At her door, he had to knock several times before she emerged, bleary-eyed and pale. She was still in her sleeping shirt, a creamy, satin thing that ended just above her knees.

“Oh, shit,” she said, rubbing her eyes. “That time already?”

“Yep,” Link said, giving her a wan smile, which she returned. “Hungry?”

“No,” she said, paling further. “But we need to eat. Be right back.”

She was gone a while, but when she emerged, she looked a little brighter, her hair brushed and pulled back into a ponytail. Her shirt was cream, her trousers and boots a dark grey. They began their journey to the kitchens.

“How do you feel?” Link asked, concentrating on keeping his stride steady.

“My head feels like there’s a Goron living in it,” she replied, drawing a laugh from him. He stopped quickly, as it made his head hurt more.

“Serves you both right,” Navi said, smugly. “I’ve never seen the like of it.”

“Not in the mood,” Thoria said. She stumbled a little, and Link put out his hand for her as hers landed on his shoulder. They paused, and smiled at each other.

The night had been wonderful. It was coming back in patches, but what Link remembered most of all was a great feeling of contentment. Just to sit in peace, with good company and music had been more of a gift that he ever could have asked for. Thoria had been a delightful audience, listening intently, even singing along to a few verses once she got the gist of the songs he played.

She had been overly critical of her singing voice. Whilst it was unpolished and occasionally wandered, looking for notes, she had the makings of a voice that could make the angels weep, he thought. Or perhaps that had been the whisky talking.

All had been well until Navi arrived. Link felt a flash of guilt at the thought, but a bitter part of himself doubled down. With the fairy glaring at them, making snide comments and hissing, some of the fun had gone out of the evening. Link no longer felt comfortable enough to lean into Thoria, enjoying her warmth, knowing Navi would fly straight to Zelda and tattle.

He was surprised she hadn’t already.

His memories of the descent back to his rooms were vaguer, but he could piece the event together from the fragments. They had climbed down so carefully, hand over foot. Link had insisted he go first, to catch Thoria if she fell. But neither did. Back in his rooms, his bed had never looked so inviting. He had swayed a little on the spot, knowing he had to make sure Thoria returned safely to her rooms. But she had softly embraced him and pushed him down on the bed, pulling off his boots.

His face grew hot as they approached the kitchens, coming back to earth with a bump. Had they…?

No. She had rolled him under the covers as he mumbled weak protestations, turning him on his side.

“I’ll be fine,” she had said. “I know the way.”

He remembered nothing after that until he woke. But remembering, a small, no, a large part of him wished the fairy had not arrived, and that Thoria had not left when she had tucked him into bed.

They entered the clamour of the kitchens, and all lustful thoughts were driven from his head as the noise assailed them. He winced, and Thoria tucked her head down, hunching her shoulders, as if the motion would shield her from the noise.

In moments, Mallory spotted them and swanned over, her face alight with glee.

“Now, here’s a sight!” she said. “A pair of hungover fools if I ever saw them.” She tweaked Link’s ear. “You’ll be needing something to perk you up, I’m thinking?”

“Yes please,” Thoria said, her small voice almost lost in the din.

“I’ve just the thing,” Mallory said, winking. “There’s a table outside in the sun, it’ll do you good to be out there.”

Link allowed Mallory to shepherd them outside, steering them to a white, wrought iron table. They sank down onto thin cushions as she bustled about, bringing steaming hot tea and a pitcher of ice water with lemons in it.

“I’ll bring you your food. Just sit tight,” she said.

“Have I ever told you you’re an angel?” Link said, peering up at her. Mallory smiled and kissed her fingers, pressing them to his cheek.

“No, but you should!” she said, and bustled off, humming a merry tune.

She soon returned with plates piled high with fried eggs, bacon, bread and more. Soon, Link found that he did not have to force the food into his mouth, and with the help of a lot of water, he felt he could function somewhat normally.

“What do you want to do?” he asked Thoria, as she swept a hand over her hair, the colour returned to her cheeks.

“I suppose you ought to get cracking on teaching me how to dance,” she said, with a sly grin.

“I’ll try and teach you the basics,” Link said, rubbing the back of his neck. Navi snorted in his ear. “I don’t know much, but it’s enough to get by.”

“That’s all I need.”

As the sun climbed in the sky, they retreated inside, back into the coolness of the stone walls. They took a meandering route about the castle, Thoria occasionally stopping to poke her head through a door.

“Here looks good,” she said, pulling him through an unremarkable door, Navi flittering at his shoulder.

It was a sizeable room, dark and empty except for a few covered armchairs and cabinets. Sheets covered a lumpy pile at the back of the room. Thoria strode to the window and pulled the curtains back, sneezing as she disturbed the dust.

“Okay, she said, as light spilled into the room, revealing burnished, tan wood flooring and pale walls. “Dancing. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Link forced a smile. “I guess I don’t have a choice.”

Thoria’s smile was gentle. “Of course you do. If you really don’t want to I’m not going to force you.”

Link swallowed. The thought of being close to her, even just to teach her something so simple was alluring. “I’ll teach you,” he said. “But like I say, I don’t know much.”

Thoria’s smile remained, but there was a mischievous glint in her eye. Again, Link wondered if she could read his mind, and felt himself grow hot under the collar. He had allowed himself to indulge in his fantastical hope for far too long.

“The best I can do is a simple court waltz,” he said, moving away from her and investigating the pile under the sheet. “It’s an easy enough dance to learn. Seven steps repeated, you can’t go wrong.”

“Sounds a bit… dull,” Thoria remarked.

“Yes, but you can vary the speed, and it’ll get you through most things.” Link tugged at the sheet and it fell away, revealing a pile of cluttered crates. One was open, and he saw a music player.

“Isn’t that fortunate,” he murmured, bringing it out. He blew dust off the surface and inspected it.

“What’s that?” Thoria approached and peered over his shoulder. Link stepped away and turned to her, partly so she could see, partly so he would better avoid the scent of her hair.

“Music player,” he said, holding it up. “A musician will play, and a mage has enchanted it to record the sound so that it can be played back.”

Thoria chuckled. “That is indeed fortunate. Are they common? Can I get one?”

“Not really,” Link said. “I don’t know why this one’s here. It may be broken.”

He fiddled with it, laying it atop one of the covered cabinets. The machine gave a clunk and a whirr, and a faint tune began to play. It was a simple thing, more background music than anything else. He toyed with it some more and the volume increased.

“Right,” he said. “Now…”

Navi flittered in front of him. “I’ll be your partner,” she said, holding out her hands. “She can watch and learn that way.”

Link smiled. “As good as that would be, you would need to be a lot bigger to give a proper demonstration.”

Navi’s expression turned from a pleasant, if smug smile to outrage. Link blinked. “What?”

“Everything has to be big with you,” she sniffed. “I can’t help the size I am!”

“Then I would shrink,” Link said. “But it’s impossible. I’m sorry, Navi, but there’s no point.”

Navi crossed her arms. “And what would Zelda say?”

“Thank you for tutoring the stranger in Hylian customs?” Thoria offered. Her own arms were folded, her hip stuck out. Navi wrinkled her nose.

“I don’t think she would, actually.”

“And how’s that working out for you?” Thoria asked, sweetly. “Thinking, I mean.”

“Alright! Enough.” Link raised his hands before Navi could respond. “Thoria, come here.”

She came to him. He tried to ignore how the light behind her highlighted her figure. He felt Navi settle on his shoulder, her wings tinkling in his ear. Link took Thoria’s hands and placed one on his bicep, holding the other gently. He placed his free hand on her waist, just above her hip.

“It’s like this,” he said, and began the slow step, turning a little with each, guiding her along. “You move your feet with mine,” he said. “When I go forward, you go back, and the other way.”

“Easy enough,” she said. “Is that all it is?”

“On the seventh step, you lean out a little for two beats,” he said, “And come back for it to start again.”

“And that’s all?”

“Yes.”

“Right.” Thoria released his hand and stepped away, stretching. “How do folk liven it up a bit?”

Link shrugged. “Lots of ways, but I don’t know any.”

“I know some things from back home,” Thoria said. “Perhaps I could include some steps?”

Link’s forehead creased. “Why would-“

“It’d combine our two cultures,” she said. “If you can’t teach me much of this, I’ll have to improvise.”

He hesitated, and the door opened.

“There you are,” Impa said, striding in.

“Lady Impa,” Link greeted her, apprehension prickling along his spine. Impa gave him a cursory nod.

“Ser Link. Lady Thoria.” She barely spared them a glance. “Navi. Her Highness wishes you to attend her.”

“Me?” Navi flittered off Link’s shoulder. “Why?”

“She requested your presence,” Impa said, her voice flat.

“Not us?” Link said.

Impa’s eyes flicked to him and away again. “Come along,” she said. “Her Highness would like your advice.”

“I need to stay,” Navi said, waving a hand at Thoria. “In case she does anything.”

“Worst I’m going to do is fart,” Thoria said. A snort of laughter shot up to Link’s nose before he could supress it, and Navi tutted.

“Well, I don’t want to stay for _that_ vulgarity,” she sniffed, and flew to Impa. “You better be here when I get back,” she said, as Impa stalked to the door. “Or I-“

The door closed, cutting off her voice. Baffled, Link turned to Thoria, who stuck out her tongue and made a farting noise.

“My thoughts simplified,” she said, as Link struggled to contain his laughter. “It’s delightfully easy to make you laugh.”

“It’s not,” he said. “You’re just funny.”

“Hardly. I speak my mind, that’s all.”

Link’s smile faded.

“About that,” he said. “I…” he hesitated. “I think it would be best if you kept a lid on those sorts of comments at this… celebration Zelda’s planning.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“I think you’re funny,” Link said. “But it’s not the sort of humour the nobility will enjoy.”

“Give me some small credit,” she said. “I may be a bit of a raging arsehole but I do have a vague sense of propriety.”

“You have a habit of stepping on the toes of propriety,” Link replied. “It’s all very well being crude and poking fun at nobility behind their backs, but in that kind of environment…”

“Zelda doesn’t seem to mind too much,” Thoria shrugged.

“She does,” Link said. “She’s just more understanding than most, and she knows you are not from here. But it’s been months. It would reflect badly on me if you… well.”

“Are me,” Thoria finished. “I wouldn’t want to embarrass you. I’ll behave.”

Link felt his shoulders relax. “It’s not that. I like you the way you are. It’s them.”

“I get it,” she said, raising her hands. She placed one over her heart and held up three fingers on her other hand. “I solemnly swear that I will not get up to any mischief and behave as one would expect a lady to.”

Link fought the smile that tugged the corners of his mouth and failed. “Maybe a little mischief. I wouldn’t know you otherwise.”

“Well, duh.” She stepped to him again. The piece of music had finished, and a new one began. It was livelier, showier. He had a vague knowledge of it. It was a mighty piece, beginning softly with a single cello and soft piano, building to a powerful climax of strings, of trumpets, drums and choir, before ending with a delicate piano that left the final note unsung, hanging in the air.

Before he knew it, the song had finished, and he realised they had both been standing still, listening to it in awe.

“That’s the one,” Thoria said, moving to the machine. She fiddled with the dials until she figured out how to make it play again. She turned to him, grinning. “I think I know how we can dance to this one.”

“Most will waltz,” Link said. “Some might add a little flair, but it’s one of those where the dance is simple, to better emphasise the music.”

“Fuck that,” Thoria said. “This is showy. It needs a showy dance.”

Link shook his head. “I’ve two left feet for anything fancy.”

“Humour me,” Thoria said, taking his hands and placing one firmly on her hip. “If, by the time this shindig rolls around we’re not confident enough, we’ll stick to the simple shit. But can we try?”

Looking into her eyes, at once hopeful and playful, Link found it impossible to refuse her.

“Alright,” he said. “We’ll try.”

They began to dance, hesitantly at first. After a while, Thoria shook her head.

“Faster,” she said.

Link picked up the pace. All was going well until Thoria mis-stepped and trod on his foot.

“Ouch!” Link jumped back with an oath.

“Sorry,” Thoria said, sweeping her hair back from her face where it had come loose from her ponytail. “I wanted to add a little zazz to it.”

“Might be a good idea to warn me,” Link grumbled.

“Alright.” Thoria pulled her hair free of its tie, allowing it to tumble down about her shoulders. “Follow my lead.”

XXXXXXX

They practiced for days. Though he found the whole affair painful and embarrassing to begin with, Link found Thoria to be a patient and effective teacher, though his own strength and agility helped enormously. She demanded they leave their weapons training for the time being, and even managed to tear herself away from the Library for most of the day. Once or twice, they even managed to slip Navi, who seemed to have taken to being by Link’s side each hour of the day once again. Thoria seemed to have almost a sixth sense for the fairy’s approach, and would sometimes cut their session short, grabbing the music player and running with him to another corner of the castle.

He wouldn’t have minded Navi’s presence, were it not for her continued snide comments and criticisms about Thoria, whilst praising his stumbling efforts to the point they seemed insincere. When they managed to avoid her, their dance evolved from a mere swift waltz with an extra turn thrown in into something quite spectacular.

“Again!” Thoria laughed, as she whirled around the room, holding tight to his hands. He brought her in close and they fell back into the waltz, the music singing in the background.

“Better,” she observed. “We’ve still got a day or two to practice, but I think we’ll blow them away.”

Link slowed and stopped. “I don’t know if we should,” he said. Thoria gave a gentle sigh.

“Why? The nobles gonna laugh at me?” she mocked. “Woe is me.”

“No, I don’t think I’ll be able to remember everything,” he said.

“You will,” Thoria said. “You didn’t fuck up once. Neither did I.”

“Not the point,” Link said. “I’m no good at performing for a crowd. I’m not a jester.”

“No, you’re a talented person who should show off your skills once in a while,” she said, with a grin.

His hands were still on her hips. He became aware of how close she was to him. Close enough to count her eyelashes. Close enough to see a faint scar above her eyebrow. Close enough to kiss. It just felt right. It seemed to be the most natural thing in the world. The way his hands rested on her hips was as though the two parts of them had been made for each other. He took a breath, driving the thought of embracing her from his mind.

“I prefer not to,” he said, his voice low. “People pay me far too much attention as it is. A small slip from most people would go unnoticed, but for me, they want nothing but perfection and expect nothing but failure.”

Thoria seemed to soften in his hands. “I keep forgetting you’re somewhat of a celebrity,” she said. “You prefer to stay out of the spotlight.” It wasn’t a question.

Link answered her anyway. “I do. But I’ll be expected to join in. So, it’s good we’re practicing. I just don’t think I’ll be good enough to do everything you’ve taught me.”

Thoria smiled with half her mouth, one corner stretching.

“It’s going to start again in a moment,” she said, nodding at the music player. “From the beginning?”

Wordlessly, Link nodded, unable to look away from her. As they began again, his mind drifted, his feet forming the patterns he had learned. He fought with himself, the same argument repeating over and over.

Something had to be done. He could not keep this up. He could not continue being around Thoria if he mooned after her so, whilst the prophecy had still not shown who it truly was that would bring danger to Hyrule. While his thoughts were filled with little but her, he could not truly concentrate on his task.

Perhaps, he thought, as he spun her around the room, perhaps he would speak with Zelda after the celebration. He needed a break, to clear his head. A week away, without Thoria, and then perhaps he would be able to concentrate on keeping the kingdom safe. But the thought of being without her for even a day was almost painful.

He gritted his teeth. He had endured pain before. It didn’t matter that he slept easier than he had done in years. It didn’t matter that she brought a smile to his face, seemingly without effort. It didn’t matter that simply being near her made him happy.

Hyrule came first. Zelda came first. The people of the kingdom came first. He must put these pathetic thoughts aside if he was to be a Hero fit to wear the Tunic of Legend, to bear the Triforce of Courage.

He made up his mind. No matter the cost to himself, he had to move on.


	48. 48 - Navi

The day of Link’s party had arrived. Navi flittered near the vaulted ceiling of the Great Hall, a miniscule duster held in her hands. She flicked it over the chandelier, smiling as her reflection revealed itself in the burnished plate gold. She shivered with anticipation in the morning light. It was going to be a spectacular evening indeed.

Below her, servants hurried about, mopping and polishing the floor, scrubbing the hearth and removing ash. Torch brackets were scoured, the wooden wall panelling washed, the tables polished.

Zelda moved through the servants, a small notepad in her hand, Impa at her heels. Navi left off dusting the chandelier and fluttered down to rest on her shoulder. She drew a hand across her brow, flicking away non-existent sweat.

“I can’t wait for this,” she said, as Zelda watched the servants work with a keen eye. “Link’s going to love it!”

“I hope so,” Zelda replied, making a note on her parchment with a small, ink-filled quill. “He deserves it.”

“He deserves a party every day for everything he’s done for us,” Navi said, settling next to Zelda’s ear. Her braid hung down, long and intricately woven with pale silk. Navi grasped it, marvelling at the softness of her hair.

“I quite agree,” Zelda said. “If only the treasury was full enough for such luxuries.”

“Have you sent out the invites?” Navi asked. “Everyone should be here.”

“I have. All noble houses have been invited, as well as those who assisted Link on his journey,” Zelda said. “It was a fine suggestion, Navi. It will be good for him to see some familiar faces.”

“I know, that’s why I said it.”

Zelda smiled. “We also have a large selection of food from all across Hyrule. I know he enjoys the variety.”

“Because I told you.”

“And I am grateful.” Zelda tilted her chin, and Navi gave her a peck on the cheek, her glow brightening. “I have commissioned our finest orchestra as well, and they will play the piece you suggested.”

“Good,” Navi said. “He seems to like it, he listens to it all the time. You know, he even started playing it on his lute?”

“He plays lute?” Zelda seemed surprised.

“And ocarina, and harp,” Navi said. “Have you ever heard him sing?”

“No,” Zelda replied. Her voice was wistful. “He sings well?”

Navi chuckled. “Princess, if you heard him, you wouldn’t ask.”

“Describe it to me,” she said.

Navi thought for a moment. It was not hard to conjure up his voice. But how to put it into words?

“It’s like floating down a river,” she said. “On your back, staring at the sky, all relaxed. Then the water gets faster, stronger, and you feel your heart starting to race. Then there’s a waterfall, and it’s powerful, but you’re not afraid of going over. You want to. You can’t wait for it. When you do, you feel all light and weightless, and when it’s over, you want to go right back up and do it all over again.”

Zelda was silent for a time. “You have quite the way with words, Navi.”

Navi’s smile was a little forced. In truth, she had stolen and paraphrased the description from the stranger, who had said it on the rooftop a week before, drunk out of her stupid skull. Far from being embarrassed, as Link seemed to get when people complimented him, her words seemed to drive him to the brink of tears, and Navi glowered, furious that the stranger could upset him so.

“It’s true though,” she admitted, a little grudgingly. “You should get him to sing for you.”

“I think I might,” Zelda said, her smile demure. “My orchestra may be fine, but I have heard them many a time.”

Navi was quiet. She hadn’t heard Link sing in such a long time, and not since the night on the rooftop. She vowed she would be there when he sang for Zelda.

“What will you wear?” she asked, to fill the silence between them. Perhaps the princess was also imagining his honeyed voice.

“I am not yet sure,” Zelda said. “But it will be in keeping with Hylian tradition.” She glanced at the fairy. “Do you know if Link has decided on an outfit?”

Navi shrugged. “I guess so. Saw him and that woman coming out of the tailor’s quarters a few days ago after a fitting. He always looks handsome no matter what.”

“Yes,” Zelda agreed. “I have rarely seen him out of his customary garb. I am sure whatever he wears will suit him well.”

“He looks good in everything,” Navi said. She threw a sly glance to the princess, noting the glow of her throat. “Even in nothing.”

“Navi!” Zelda giggled. “Such words are unbecoming!”

Navi giggled as well. “You were thinking it, though.”

“Shh,” Zelda said, her smile wide, her cheeks pink. “What of Lady Thoria’s dress? What colours has she chosen?”

Navi’s smile slipped half an inch.

“I don’t know,” she said. “Didn’t ask, didn’t see, and the tailor wouldn’t tell me.”

Zelda nodded. “It will be a surprise, then.”

She began to move through the hall again, passing the low platform that was being constructed at the back of the hall. A trio of servants brought in a ladder and began to hang banners along the walls. The fireplace clean, another pair lit a small fire, throwing handfuls of dried sundew, bilberry and magnolia into the flames. Soon, the room was filled with their perfume.

“Does he seem excited for this?” Zelda asked, after a time.

“Yes,” Navi said, instantly. “He… well. You know him. He keeps his thoughts to himself, but I know him. He just _loves_ parties, he can’t wait!”

Zelda smiled. “That is a relief. I intend to honour him with my first dance.”

Navi wriggled, a grin stretching her lips. “That will be perfect,” she said. “Not only will he love it, but it’ll show the court how important he is!”

“That is my plan,” Zelda smiled. To Navi, it was a special smile, a layered smile, one that, to an outsider, would be polite, kindly and generous. But she knew better. By dancing with her Hero first, Zelda was not only giving a subtle snub to her unsatisfactory suitors, but she would also be honouring Link above them all. It was no less than he deserved, after all. Navi knew the secret meaning of the smile. This would show the kingdom the smallest glimpse of the princess’s heart, the first, tiny suggestion that the Hero of Twilight was destined for even more greatness than he had previously shown.

A small worry burned within her. Link had been practicing dancing with the stranger. Sure, it _looked_ as though he had been teaching her the courtly ways, but to Navi, something felt very off. The times she had managed to find them, secreted away in a different room each time, the way the stranger danced seemed to be almost too good. Her feet were too light on the ground, her leaps held her too long in the air. She must be using magic to make herself that good! She furrowed her brow. She better not upstage the princess.

“Will the king be there?” she asked, to distract herself.

Zelda shook her head. “I do not believe so. He is still unwell, and seemingly grows weaker each day. Such an event would prove too much for him, and I…” she trailed off, then lowered her voice. “I have delved rather deeper into our coffers than perhaps I should have for this.”

“Link’s worth it,” Navi replied, instantly. “He’s worth every rupee this kingdom has.”

“He is,” Zelda agreed, raising her eyes and gazing into the distance, as servants laid large bouquets of flowers on each table. “He is.”


	49. 49 - Link

“Here you are, Ser, Lady,” the tailor said, handing over two flat boxes. Thoria took hers with a smile and a wink, and Link noticed the tailor did not quite meet her eyes.

“Thank you,” he said, lifting the lid of his box. Inside, he saw the elegant, deep green material of his suit, a fine cut of cloth that seemed to be worth more than a lady’s jewelled necklace.

The tailor waved his thanks away with a smile. “I am sure you will both catch the eye of everyone in the room,” he said, rubbing his hands together. His eyes darted to Thoria’s box and away again, flickering behind his round spectacles. He pointed to Link’s box.

“Are you sure I cannot add some more to it, Ser?” he asked. “Some extra stitching at the cuffs and collar, a little more frill, emeralds sewn into the lapels to keep with current fashion?”

Link supressed a shudder. “No, thank you. Simple is all I want.”

“As you will.” He bowed to them both, his eyes glancing once more to Thoria, and the box she held in her hands.

Exiting, they began their way back along the corridor.

“So, what is it?” Link asked, nodding at Thoria’s box. “Your dress. What colour did you pick?”

“Not telling,” she said, for the hundredth time. “It’s a surprise.”

“Can you not give me a clue?”

“No! I’m saying nothing.”

Link elbowed her playfully, and then took a small step away. “It’s in keeping with tradition?”

“One of them, maybe,” she said, with a shrug. “The tailor had a lot of ideas, but I knew what I wanted. All I’ll say is that people back home would wear stuff like this to black-tie events.”

“Black tie?”

“Fancy.”

“Ah.” A sudden concern hit him. “It’s… proper?”

“Don’t worry,” Thoria said, with a small sigh. “I’m not going to put on a miniskirt and stuff my tits in a boob tube.”

Link felt his face flush. “People from your land wore things like that?”

“Oh yeah,” she said. “Not to formal events, though. Mostly. Our fashion is pretty varied. Some people would wear fishnet tights,” she continued. “It’s exactly like it sounds.”

Link tried to imagine it.

“It sounds odd…” he said. Thoria shrugged.

“With the right style, it can suit some women quite well,” she said.

“Did you ever wear anything like that?” he asked.

She laughed. “No. They made my arse look like a waffle.”

They deposited their outfits in their respective rooms, and then Thoria led them down to the gardens, where the late summer sun beat down, still warm and bright. It was a blessed change from the previous months, and Link no longer felt like he was melting just by being outside. He took a calming breath. Though it was only late morning, he felt as though the evening was right behind him, like a great, black dog, nipping at his heels, growling lightly in his ear.

Thoria, as ever, seemed to be able to read his mind.

“Nervous?” she asked, as they stopped by the lake and sat in the grass.

“A little,” he admitted. “I just want it over with already.”

“I get that,” Thoria said, placing her hands behind her head and reclining in the grass. Her shirt rose a little, revealing a flash of her white stomach. Link swallowed and looked away. “We’ve got hours yet. Might as well enjoy them.”

Link glanced at her, and away again. “H-how would you suggest we do that?”

He caught her shrug out of the corner of his eye. “There’s a lot we could do. But I must admit, I’m feeling very lazy. Chilling out here sounds like a good idea.”

She rolled to her side and propped her chin on her hand. “Know any stories? About Hyrule, I mean.”

“Like what?”

“Fables, legends, that kind of thing.”

Link allowed a small smile to cross his face. “I’m sure that anything I could tell you, you’ve already read.”

“True.” She fell back on the grass and stretched, a lithe, languid movement. Link kept his gaze on a patch of grass at his feet. “I could tell you one I know, if you like?”

“Could do,” Link said. He plucked a long blade of grass and twirled it in his fingers. “If you like.”

Thoria chuckled. “Alright, then.” She tucked her hands behind her head, and began to speak.

_Long ago, in a time when the roads were made of dirt and the homes of people were made of mud and ash, there lived a young man. He was an ordinary man, a man of simple wants and needs, on whom destiny decided to place a great task._

_The man lived his simple life, in his simple village, enjoying simple pleasures. Until one day, a monster came from the forest. It was tall, it was black, and its eyes burned with a fire hotter than the sun. it burned all in its path, and it came for the people of the simple village with a lustful hunger._

_Many had heard tell of such a monster, and when they looked upon it, they cowered in fear, hiding themselves in their homes and praying to their pagan gods for deliverance from such evil. But their gods did not answer, for they were flighty and uninterested in the plight of those who worshipped them._

“They sound like bad gods,” Link said.

“Any gods who ignore the suffering of their people are bad gods,” Thoria replied.

_When the monster arrived at the village, there were no people there to face it. They had hidden or fled. None but the young man, who was affronted by the audacity of the monster._

_“You come here,” he said to it, striding out of his home. “You come here and frighten my friends, burn their fields and eat their cattle, for what gain?”_

_The monster replied, in a voice as dark as night, as loud as thunder, as powerful as a raging storm._

_“I am hungry,” it said. “I was once like you, carefree and kind. But my life was simple, and I wished for more. I spoke with the Devil and he granted me great power. Now, I am mighty, I am strong, but I am hungry. I will feast on your flesh and burn your village to the ground.”_

_And the young man was afraid. He had never seen the like of this monster, and he felt weak and small before it. But the people of his village were in danger, and he feared more what the monster would do, if it were allowed to continue its great rampage._

_So, the young man picked up a forge hammer and a half-finished shield from the smithy. He faced the monster and called out a challenge._

_“I defy you!” he said. “Meet me at dawn on that there grassy knoll. I shall defeat you.”_

_The monster laughed at him, but something in the young man’s eyes made him curious. He had rarely seen a human with such courage, and he knew that their bravery made them taste all the sweeter._

_“I will meet you on that there grassy knoll,” the monster agreed. “I will defeat you, and I will eat everything you hold dear.”_

_“If I defeat you,” the young man said. “You will crawl back into the pits of Hell and ne’er again see the light of day.”_

_And so, they agreed._

_When the day came, the villagers beseeched the young man to flee, as they prepared to do the same._

_“The monster is too strong!” they cried. “He will eat you and burn our homes. Run with us, and we might survive a little longer.”_

_But the young man knew that if he ran, the monster would follow him unto the ends of the earth. He would never sleep without flames licking his heels, he would never rest without looking over his shoulder, and all those who knew him would cry “coward!” when he came by._

_So, when the dawn came, he took up his forge hammer and half-finished shield, and took to the grassy knoll, where the monster was waiting._

_Thus commenced a great battle. For a day and a night, the people of the village saw flashes of fire on the grassy knoll, and heard the roaring of the monster over the ringing of the forge hammer. When the light of day rose again, there was a great, smoking crater in the ground. When the people found courage enough to investigate, they found the monster gone, and the young man curled in a ball at the bottom of the crater._

_The monster had been vanquished, but in doing so, it had cost the young man his life. But the people of the village did not weep. They celebrated the young man’s victory, posthumously proclaiming him their saviour, and his story was passed down as legend, until the end of time._

Link stared at the sky for a long time, until he realised that there was no more to the tale.

“That’s it?” he said. “He died?”

Thoria nodded. “Died, but saved the lives of everybody. Quite noble, really.”

Link bit his lip. “I was expecting a happy ending.”

Thoria’s smile was soft.

“Not all endings are happy,” she said. “Some are. They’re the best ones. Some are bittersweet, and some are sad. It’s the way of the world.”

Link had to admit she was right. “Is there a meaning to it?”

“Dunno,” she said. “If you prefer a happy ending, I could make it have one.”

Link shook his head. “That would change it.”

“Stories do change over time,” she said, rising. “I’m sure there have been loads told about you, or your other lives that have been altered, embellished, or otherwise reformed.”

Link chuckled wryly. “You could say that.”

“I just did,” she said, and offered her hand. “Come on. I’m hungry, and we should probably think about getting ready for this thing.”

Link took her hand and allowed her to pull him to his feet, marvelling at how much stronger she seemed to have become over the months they had spent together.

Following consumption of a few stolen pies and apples, they made their way back to their rooms.

“I’ll see you in a bit,” Link said, forcing a smile. He rubbed his jaw, feeling the rough bristles that were in danger of becoming a beard. “I need to shave.”

“Oh, why?” Thoria gave her half-smile. “I like the rugged look.” With a grin, she slipped inside her rooms.

Inside his own, Link began to pace back and forth, making a mental note to throw out his razor, glowing from the compliment. There were hours yet to go before the celebration, and each minute seemed to crawl by. How would he endure yet another farcical event, surrounded by the esteemed and wealthy personage of Hyrule? Knowing the words they muttered behind their hands, sneering at the frivolity of it all. They cared not for him or for his deeds, they only cared that their estates were untouched and profitable. He was dispensable, a mere common boy, a tool useful only for keeping monsters off their lands.

He had tried to ignore their stares over the years, to shut out their sweetly barbed jibes. But still they came, when the novelty of his defeat of Ganon had worn away and their plastered smiles had cracked. Over and over, he had asked himself the same question that was unspoken in their eyes.

Why was he still here? Had he not served his purpose? Why did the princess keep him here, in the castle, when his place was far away, tiling soil on some farm, or herding goats as his station dictated? Why did she honour him so, when his usefulness was all but used up?

Yes, he had endured a great many trials since then. He had fought and bled for Hyrule more times than he cared to think of. But those victories did nothing to win over the noble classes. He was as much a pauper farm boy to them as he ever had been, and now, he must endure an evening buried in a nest of vipers, watching his tongue, making sure he said and did nothing that could put him, and now Thoria, at risk.

As the light began to dim outside, he finally drew out his suit. The material was soft, almost like silk. The shoulders were padded, and he considered briefly tearing the stuffing out. It made his shoulders look unnaturally wide, but it was “in style,” according to the tailor. He offered a small prayer of gratitude to the divines that he had been able to avoid the frilly cuffs and high collar the tailor had been so desperate to install.

Overall, the effect was not too unpleasant. He could not deny that the cut of the cloth was fine indeed, the colour reminiscent of his home. His head felt a little bare without his hat, and he ran a comb through his hair, over and over, frowning at a stubborn cow-lick at the back of his head. But all too soon, it was time to leave.

As he walked the corridors of the castle, he was surprised to find the servants he passed spared him barely a look. He watched them curiously, as their eyes slid over him and away, instead of latching onto him and then flitting away and back, like nervous starlings, watching him when they thought he wasn’t looking.

Was he nothing more than a costume? A hat and a tunic and a sword? He found a smile creeping over his face. The anonymity was freeing. If he was to be recognised only for his attire and deeds, then perhaps he would go without his customary tunic more often.

His shoulders straightened, and he held his head higher. Perhaps this would be less of a chore after all. He could mingle with a crowd, avoid the attention, and maybe, just maybe, enjoy an evening with Thoria.

The smile slid from his face. He could only enjoy it to a degree. He still needed to move away from her. The prophecy loomed over his head, the weight of it lowering his chin. Until he or Zelda knew what was coming, he had to be distant, cool, reserved.

It should not be too difficult. All he had to do was be polite. Disengaged. And once the party was over, he would request his leave, and retire to somewhere remote, focusing on anything but her. And when he returned, she would be no more than another person, another task. He could endure. He had endured worse.

The thought saddened him. To deny himself such a simple pleasure would be ridiculous under any other circumstance. But he had to do his duty by Zelda. By Hyrule. For all those who lived in the kingdom. Nothing was more important. Even if it meant he never slept well again, he must be better, and make up for his failings.

 _Be cordial,_ he told himself. _Be polite, be kind. But don’t get close. Don’t let her hug you. Engage, but be distant. Watch for danger. Anything strange, anything unusual. Focus on your task. You have endured worse. Detach. Distance. Obey Zelda. Protect the people. Be strong. You are a Hero. Act like one._

He raised a hand to her door and knocked, a small, sad weight in his chest. She would be confused, no doubt, and hurt. They were friends. It was wrong of him to pull away without a word, but what choice did he have? How could he possibly explain it to her?

“Just a minute!” she called. “I’m putting my shoes on.”

“We’ll be late,” Link cautioned, knowing that they already were. He twisted his hands. He fretted at his cuffs. Perhaps he should explain. She would laugh at him, that was certain. She would make fun of him. It would be good if she did. It would be easier if she was cruel.

“Right, done!” Thoria’s voice sounded through the wood.

The door opened, as did Link’s mouth. All his concerns, his pep-talk, indeed, every coherent thought, was washed from his mind as Thoria appeared.

 _Beautiful,_ was all he could think. _Beautiful._

_Beautiful._


	50. 50 - Zelda

The Great Hall of Hyrule Castle looked stunning. The tables had been moved to the sides, leaving a great, open space in the centre. The King’s table had been moved to the far end of the hall, and raised on a platform. It was here Zelda sat, watching her full orchestra settle against the wall and tune their instruments, whilst servants laid silver trays of finger foods about the room, and more still swanned about, carrying platters with goblets of wine balanced neatly on their fingers.

The hall had been draped in banners displaying the Hylian crest, and cleaned more rigorously than it had been in weeks. Even the highest cobwebs hiding in the dark corners of the ceiling were no match for her maids. Large bouquets of flowers adorned every available surface, cut from her own royal gardens. The air was heavy with their scent. The torch brackets were almost sparkling, and her mages had woven a clever little spell that made the flames burn white and glittering, like ice.

The whole Hall was infused with a gentle, warm glow, rich with purples and burnished wood, with cream and accents of pink, blue, and green. Zelda allowed a soft sigh. She was used to splendour, used to beauty. It surrounded her like a cloak of starlight, but now, it seemed to be more beautiful than she could possibly imagine, because all of this was her doing, for her Hero. He would be so pleased!

The nobility began filing in to the Great Hall in their finery as the servants opened the doors. Each woman was decorated as though she were an ornament, clinging to the arms of their husbands, whose fine, padded suits were ostentatiously plumed and plumped, their short capes or long cloaks fluttering as they marched. Single lords and ladies trickled in with the crowd, eyeing each other, wondering, perhaps, if they would meet their partner here, tonight.

There was a rainbow of dresses with wide, rigid skirts, each more poofy and pleated than the last, with intricate shoulder weavings and tall collars wobbling behind the noble ladies’ heads. Their hairstyles were yet more flamboyant, piled high on their heads or held out to the side or back by a series of hidden wires and poles, inlaid with beads and held together with netting.

Zelda’s own outfit was also in keeping with Hylian tradition. Her hair was pulled into a cone at the back of her head, showing off her long ears and pale neck, which in turn were decorated with pink diamonds to match her gown. Her sleeves were short and ruffled, her gloves long and elegant. The seams and pleats of her dress had been inlaid with tiny rubies and pink garnets, making her glitter like a star. The skirt of her dress was layered, held away from her hips with a small wire mesh. It made sitting difficult, but provided she was careful, she would not bend the wire and end up with a flat behind.

She signalled to the orchestra, who began to play a simple tune, filling the hall with pipes and violins, just audible over the babbling of the crowd. Other, honoured guests were in attendance, in their best garb. The Zora delegate wore an intricate gown that looked to be made of a single strip of cloth, wound over her body a hundred times to give the appearance of a floating, elegant robe. The Goron delegate had painted flashy, crude symbols on his body and donned his tribe’s colours for his kilt. The fae delegates wore raiment made of leaves and grass and stitched with starlight. Zelda smiled. She was pleased by the effort everybody had made. Even the scholar, Shad, had seemingly brought out his least dusty suit, and the barwoman, Telma, had managed to pack away her bosom into a sky-blue dress that strained across her broad shoulders.

People had come from far and wide to celebrate Link’s achievements with her. She relaxed a little, a happy little bubble rising in her chest. But her eyes scanned the crowd. Link was not yet here.

“Impa,” Zelda murmured, and her aide bent to her. “Where is he?”

“The last I heard, he was waiting for Lady Thoria to finish getting ready. The tailor said her outfit was rather… unique,” she said. Zelda threw her a nervous glance.

“Why? She is not going to don _trousers_ for this event, surely?”

“I imagine not,” Impa said. “The tailor said she was very specific about the sort of dress she wanted.”

“Well,” Zelda sighed. “They best hurry. This party is for Link, after all.”

Impa nodded and handed her a goblet of wine as the first of the nobles made their way to her chair, bowing and smiling, offering a large, wrapped parcel to her. Impa took it as Zelda thanked them by name and stowed it away behind the table. Seemingly emboldened, the rest of the nobility began to inch forwards, none seemingly wanting to appear too eager to win her favour, but all moving in a slow dance around the hall to reach her.

As the pile of gifts grew, and her backside became numb, the doors of the hall opened, and a hush began to fall over the crowd. The music seemed to grow as the voices stilled, and Zelda craned her neck to see.

Link had entered, Navi at his shoulder, and he was not in his customary tunic. It was strange to see him out of it. He wore a simple, elegant suit of forest green, and on his arm was Lady Thoria. Zelda withheld a gasp.

The gown Thoria had chosen was the complete opposite of the flashy dresses the nobility wore. It was simple, it was sleek, and it was black. It reached the floor and flared about her feet, clinging to her hips, waist and chest. The dress reached her neck and encircled it in a strip of black, but it had no sleeves, baring her arms and shoulders to the late summer air. Her throat was devoid of jewellery, her hair a simple bun.

Link could not take his eyes off her.

Much was the same for the rest of the men in the hall. Out of the corner of her eye, Zelda saw women prodding their husbands, poking shoulders, backs, even tweaking ears to get them to tear their eyes away from the stranger in their midst.

Before the spell broke, Link shepherded her over to the nearest servant, taking two goblets of wine, and making a beeline for Telma, whose joyous laugh was loud. At last, voices began to fill the hall once more.

“Well,” Impa said, folding her arms. “That could have been worse.”

“She certainly… stands out,” Zelda admitted. Her happy bubble had burst, leeching jealousy into the pit of her stomach, were it sat and soured. Everything about the woman exuded sex and power. She shivered. _Was_ it a power move? A deliberate shunning of Hylian tradition in order to humiliate her? Why had she worn something so… so…

Elegant. Suited to her frame. Zelda glowered. She did not like the way her Hero was looking at her. He was in animated conversation with the barwoman, the scholar, and the soldier girl, Ashei, waving his hands emphatically and smiling. But his eyes kept flicking to the strange woman, over and over and over.

“My Princess,” came a dauntingly familiar voice, pulling her unpleasantly back to her seat.

Zelda allowed her eyes to flutter shut for half a second as she composed herself.

“Lord Dool,” she said, offering him a quick and guarded smile. “I am honoured you have attended.”

“I wouldn’t miss this for the world,” he said. He wore a ruffled suit of yellow and white, embroidered with gold and topaz gems, with a short, yellow cape at his shoulders. His dark hair was slicked back, his beard neatly trimmed and curled to a point. In his hands was a small gift wrapped in yellow paper. He saw her looking and flashed his gold tooth.

“Do not be misled by the size of my gift, my love,” he said. He raised his voice enough that the surrounding nobles could not help but hear. “It is what is inside that counts!” He flourished the small box and presented it with a bow. “Pray, open it. I insist.”

Zelda took the present with a wan smile and undid the bow. The paper fell away, and she lifted the lid of the box beneath, and she gave a small gasp. Inside was a diamond the size of her palm, brilliantly cut in the shape of a teardrop. It caught the light, sending rainbow sparkles dancing across its surface, reflecting across the tablecloth and her gloves.

“I… thank you for this gift, Lord Dool,” she said, her voice soft. “I fear that this is too generous, too beautiful.”

“It pales in comparison to your beauty,” Dool smirked. He bowed once more. “I will find you when it is time for dancing.”

“Impa,” Zelda murmured as he flounced away. “If he has not mysteriously fallen into the moat before that time, set me on fire.”

Impa rolled her eyes and took the diamond.

“This would fetch a princely sum,” she whispered. “Should I add it to the treasury?”

“Yes,” Zelda said. “Along with any other items that can be traded or sold. Bespoke gifts should be melted down or otherwise changed to boost our funds.”

“It will be done,” Impa said, slipping the gem into her pocket.

Zelda continued to watch as the celebration became livelier. As the wine flowed, voices became louder, and some nobles took to the centre of the hall to dance. Lord Symper was impressively agile, and it seemed that he had learned an old Gerudo quickstep, earning him a smattering of polite applause from his onlookers as he whirled around the dancefloor with another noble lady. It was rather different to the usual Hylian dances, which were often slow, deliberate, and sophisticated. For the more popular melodies, those dancing seemed almost military, so uniform were their simple steps.

She found it hard to spot Link in the throng. Without his customary green tunic and hat, he blended into the crowd exceptionally well. Irritated, Zelda settled for seeking out Lady Thoria, who was easy to find. A black blot in a sea of colour, Link was never far from her side as he was greeted by guest after guest. His smile never faltered as he spoke with them, shaking hands, nodding, standing straight backed and proud. But she did not miss that his smile slipped from his face the moment he was left alone. She hoped he would cheer up as the night went on. This was all for him, after all.

“The festivities are going well, it seems,” a voice murmured behind her. Impa’s hands flew to her daggers, but Zelda raised a hand, her heart in her throat. She knew that voice.

The Mage of Shadows stood behind her, shed of his customary robe. Without it, he was a tall, slender man, with hands like pale spiders. He still wore his silver ring, set with three large sapphires. She could only see the lower half of his face, as he wore a mask in the shape of an elegant fox. His chin was square and dimpled.

“There is much distraction and merriment here,” he said, his voice a soft purr in Zelda’s ear. “With your permission, I would seek to remove your troubles tonight.”

Zelda bit her lip. Lady Thoria was engaged in conversation with the scholar Shad. Both were talking at once, practically bouncing in their excitement. Link was watching them, a smile on his face, half listening to Telma as she laughed and pressed a goblet into his hands.

“Allow me to consider it,” she said. There was no reply from the Mage, and when she turned, he had vanished from her side. She spied him leaning against a wall opposite, and he raised his goblet in toast to her. Zelda turned her eyes back to the hall, an uncomfortable knot of guilt settling in her stomach.

Lady Thoria would not return home with the Mage’s spell. All it would do is send her away. Zelda sipped her wine, at war with herself. It would be wrong of her, she concluded. She could not risk the safety of Hyrule, but Lady Thoria _had_ saved Link’s life, if he was to be believed. His humility was ever endearing, but there was always the chance he was trying to be kind, and embellishing Lady Thoria’s part in the dragon’s death. All the same. Perhaps she should give the woman a second chance, instead of flinging her headfirst into yet another unknown world, perhaps a world that was less kind than this one. She had earned that much, it seemed.

“Ser Link!” came a loud voice. Zelda followed it and winced. Lord Dool was making his way through the crowd to him, a goblet of wine clutched in his fist. Zelda glanced at Impa, and they both rose and began to follow.

“I have heard many tales of your… exploits,” Lord Dool was saying. His cheeks were ruddy, and he grinned down at the Hero, who stood half a head shorter than him. “Tell me, how much of the stories are true?”

“That depends on what you have heard, my lord,” Link said. He stood loosely, ever deferential, but cautious. Zelda could almost taste the challenge in the air.

“Well, you certainly impressed our beautiful princess,” Dool continued, laughing. “She speaks very fondly of you.”

“I am honoured by her kind words,” Link replied. He took half a step back from the leering lord. Dool’s gold tooth winked in the light.

“Ah, kind! She spares you kind _words_. I wonder…” Dool’s eyes roved around the room and landed on Zelda. He smirked, and Zelda went cold. “Does she spare you aught else?”

Link’s face went blank as those closest quietened and began to listen more closely. He stared impassively up at Dool, saying nothing. Zelda waited with baited breath. Anything he said could be taken a poor way, but to say nothing would be to suggest she slighted him, the man who saved Hyrule.

“She throws a spectacular party,” Link said, eventually. He gave a tight smile. “My Lord.” He made to move away, leaning towards where Lady Thoria and Shad were still talking. Shad had a small book in his hand, and was pointing excitedly at something as Thoria read over his shoulder, her eyes wide.

“You stay there,” Dool said, his voice rising. “I’m not done with you.”

The crowd around them quietened further. Link obediently remained where he was, but Lady Thoria looked up. Placing a hand on Shad’s shoulder, she moved to Link’s side.

“Who’s this handsome devil?” she asked, flashing a winning smile Dool’s way. Link winced, but Dool grinned back, looking her up and down.

“Ah, finally, a woman with some taste!” He said. He gave an elegant, flourishing bow. “I am Lord Articus Dool. Tell me, Lady,” he paused, his eyes crawling over her figure. “Is this young Hero as good as the legends say?”

“Yeah,” Lady Thoria said, with a shrug. Dool’s smile seemed to become more of a sneer.

“We shall see.” He flicked his cape. “Ser! A challenge! A feat of strength. Let us see who is the more powerful here.”

Impa leapt forward and whispered a quick word in Dool’s ear as Link stepped back, concern sweeping his face. He leaned to Lady Thoria as she murmured something. He shook his head.

Dool shook Impa off, glowering.

“I will not be,” he said. “Bring me more wine, wench, and I’ll show you all who is the better man.”

With a sweep of his arm that sent platters of food clattering to the floor, Dool seated himself at one of the long tables. He propped his elbow up and raised his hand.

“Wrestle with me, good knight,” he said. “And feel privileged, this is likely the richest hand you shall ever touch.”

Link shook his head. “I have no wish to engage you, my lord.”

Dool spat. “That’s an order, boy. Wrestle with me.”

Link glanced at Zelda, apprehension in his eyes. He was in a difficult position. He could not refuse an order from his superiors, but neither could he engage Dool in a feat of strength. If Dool lost, he would be embarrassed and enraged. If he won… Zelda shivered. Poor Link would be humiliated, and would never hear the end of it. She could spare him, order Dool to stand down, to stop this foolishness and simply enjoy the night.

But a curious part of her wanted to see the Lord shamed. Slowly, she nodded. Link set his jaw and glanced at Lady Thoria, who gave him an encouraging pat on the arm. He moved to the other side of the table and sat, grasping the lord’s yellow glove with his bare hand.

Dool grinned at him across the table. Impa raised her hand and brought it down, signalling the beginning of the match.

Instantly, Zelda knew she had been wrong. The two men strained against each other, and astonishingly, Dool seemed able to keep pace with Link. She shook herself. Of course he could! How often had he boasted in his letters about his successes in arm wrestling? The man had been tutored by Gorons, for Din’s sake! And Link was at a disadvantage. Dool was using his stronger right hand, but Link had always favoured his left.

She raised her hands to her mouth as she watched. Link’s teeth were gritted, and a bead of sweat appeared on Dool’s brow, but neither man had given way, yet. The crowd around them began to swell.

“So,” Dool said, his voice laboured. “Who’s that delicious little piece you have with you tonight? Some foreigner?” He chuckled. Link did not reply. “No matter. She is rather fine indeed. What say you we throw a little wager in on this?”

Link bunched his shoulder and pushed harder. Dool’s arm moved a little before he pushed back, bringing their hands back to the centre of the table. Dool smiled.

“Ah,” he said. “I _see_. Well then. Let the wager commence. If I win, which I will, then I will take the beautiful young lady away with me this evening.” He leered. Link began to pant. “You see Ser, there are things a man only learns as he enters the prime of his life. How to wine and dine and… please a woman. She would be glad to spend a night with me. Just give up now, and save yourself the trouble. I’ll have her begging for my return.” Link curled his lip, baring his teeth as Dool talked. The lord was seemingly unaffected by their struggle, and Link’s arm began to move, inch by creeping inch, towards the table. His eyes were feral, and he glared at the lord with burning intensity. Zelda frowned. It was unbecoming of Lord Dool to speak in such a manner, in a vain attempt to unsettle the Hero. Such words would fluster a lesser man, but Link was strong, and above such things. She willed him to fight harder, her eyes on his hand as it trembled towards the table.

“Oh yes, _begging,_ ” Dool continued, a cocky smile on his face, assured of is victory. “You will see, Ser, why all the ladies of the land call my name. It will be my name that she calls when she is abed with y-“

Link roared, and with a mighty effort, smashed Dool’s hand to the table. Dool flopped sideways with a yelp, and Link released him, rising from the chair and adjusting the lapels of his suit.

“You are boastful, my lord,” he said, his voice icy. “But you are mistaken. The Lady Thoria is here as Princess Zelda’s guest. You are her Highness’s suitor, are you not? Pray, do not dishonour her with your words.”

He turned from the table and moved back to where Lady Thoria was standing as a ripple of applause spattered through the crowd. Zelda craned her neck to see where he went, and eventually spotted him by the wall, draining a full goblet of wine as Telma, Shad and Lady Thoria crowded him.

Dool rose heavily to his feet, his expression thunderous.

“See that your knight is punished,” he spat at Zelda. “He injured me, in front of all these people! Assault on a man of noble birth is a crime. I wish to see him pilloried!”

“My lord,” Zelda said, offering a sympathetic smile. “I shall provide my Chosen Knight with his due recompense. I believe a large sum of rupees for his success would suffice, do you not?”

Dool spluttered, but Zelda raised a hand.

“My lord has had too much wine,” she announced, her heart fluttering. “And is embarrassed after losing a challenge. Please, escort him home.”

As if from nowhere, two Sheikah appeared. Dool glowered at Zelda as he shook them off.

“I do not forget such slights, princess,” he said, pointing a finger. “I expect an apology within the week.” With that, he turned on his heel and flounced off, nursing his shoulder.

Zelda let out her breath. It had been foolish of her to encourage the challenge, and insult him so. But a small part of her felt a childish glee at her victory. She almost grinned. Regardless of his money or friends, she was still the princess, after all. 


	51. 51 - Link

“You sure put that jumped up little toad in his place!” Telma laughed and wrapped her arm around Link’s neck, ruffling his hair.

“Mm,” Link watched Lord Dool as he was encouraged out with the assistance of the Sheikah, the Goron delegate bringing up the rear. “He’s a powerful man. I hope it hasn’t caused Zelda any problems.”

“I wouldn’t worry about it honey,” Telma replied. “This is your party! You need to have a drink and loosen up those shoulders.”

“Yes, I must say old boy, very impressive display of strength,” Shad said. “You made it look rather easy.”

“He’s stronger than he looks,” Link said, his cheeks colouring. His blood was still running hot at the noble’s words. He glanced at Thoria.

“I suppose I should thank you for defending my honour,” she said, smiling her half-smile.

“I always will,” he replied, and winced, feeling his face grow hot. He tugged at his collar as Thoria touched a finger to her lips.

“Hm. Part of me wishes I’d have gone back with him.”

Link balked. “What?”

“I’d have tied him up and pushed him out the window,” she said, shrugging. Telma laughed loudly.

“Oh, I like this one!” she said, pulling Thoria to her side in a powerful, one-armed hug and planting a kiss on the top of her head. Thoria giggled as Link picked up a fresh goblet of wine.

“He’s potentially our future king,” Navi sniffed. “To say such things will be treasonous.”

“Urgh,” Thoria gave a theatrical shudder. “ _He_ is one of Zelda’s suitors? No wonder she’s been quiet, poor thing.”

Link looked to where Zelda was. She had returned to her table, accompanied by Impa, and was engaged in conversation with a group of nobles. She caught his eye, and Link gave her a compassionate smile.

“I feel for her,” he said. “I’d hate to be stuck with someone so unpleasant every day.”

“You are,” Navi muttered in his ear. Link chose to ignore her.

Across the hall, the orchestra struck up a lively tune. Telma clapped her hands.

“Oh, I _love_ this one! Come dance with me, book boy!”

Shad looked up, his expression similar to a man who had been caught with his breeches down. “Um, I really don’t-“

The rest of Shad’s sentence was cut off with a yelp as Telma practically carried him to the middle of the hall, where she pressed the skinny scholar to her chest and began an energetic quickstep. The attending nobility scrambled out of her way as she clattered around, Shad’s feet barely touching the floor.

Link smiled as he watched them, the last embers of his fury ebbing away as Thoria folded her arms and leaned against the wall.

“I love that guy,” she said, nodding to Shad. “His research is fascinating. I didn’t know there was a whole city in the clouds! It’s probably the most interesting thing I’ve heard all week, and that sky writing! Unbelievable.”

“Oh?” Link made a face. The most interesting thing she’d heard all week? She ‘loved’ Shad? He struggled not to pout. “I’ve actually _been_ to the Sky City.”

“Bullshit,” Thoria said, gawping. Link allowed himself a smile.

“It’s true,” he said. “I went, I explored, I fought an armoured dragon. Not much to it.”

“But you don’t even have aircraft,” Thoria said. “How did you get there?”

“Aircraft?”

“Flying machines. Sorry, I forgot to mention them.”

Link shook his head at the thought. “Impossible.”

“Nuh-uh. How about you explain how you got to the city in the sky?”

“I got shot out of a cannon,” Link said.

Thoria spat wine a clear two feet and doubled over, her laughter echoing across the hall. A few guests stopped to stare.

“What? I did!” Link said, as she clutched the wall for support.

“I believe you,” she gasped, holding her middle. “But it’s just the thought of it!” she mimed being shot from a cannon, waving her hands, her expression one of comical terror.

“Shut up,” Link said, nudging her. “You sure you’re in love with Shad?” His question was forcibly light hearted.

“I never said that,” Thoria said. “I meant I like him a lot, he’s interesting! It’s a term of endearment.”

“It’s a strong word to throw around,” Link replied.

“Oh, sorry,” she said. “Love you too, then!” She winked as Link’s heart skipped a beat.

“No, she doesn’t,” Navi whispered in Link’s ear as Thoria turned to talk to a noble couple seeking her attention, before striking up a conversation with the ever sullen Ashei, who looked very uncomfortable in a frilly, cream gown. “She’s using you to learn Hyrule’s secrets, you know this.”

“Put a boot in it, Navi,” Link sighed. “Can we go one day without being rude about Thoria, please?”

“I’ll say what I like,” the fairy sniffed. “Until you learn that-“

Link tuned her out, with difficulty. Her shrill voice was as insistent as a baby’s cry, driving pins into his ear. She’d come around eventually. She had come around to Ilia, after all, though it was only after he had fled Ordon Village in the middle of the night. He struggled with what Thoria had said.

Was it just a term of endearment where she was from? A word to casually drop into conversation, indicating fondness only, not attraction? Or did she really mean ‘love’ as it meant to him? Maybe it was both, and she was joking when she said she ‘loved’ Shad… but did that mean…?

Link shook himself. He couldn’t think like this. She probably just used it interchangeably with ‘like’. Which meant it was fine for him to like her, right? They were friends. And he did like her. That was all. _That was all!_

But as he watched her talking with the guests, raising the goblet to her lips, smiling, laughing, listening, in her glorious dress, he could not help but think her beautiful. She looked over and caught him staring.

“Penny for your thoughts?” she said, sliding away from the group. Link chuckled.

“I’m wondering if we could sneak away, escape all this nonsense,” he said. “But I’d be missed.”

“I could cause a distraction,” she said. “Do a spot of breakdancing, and while everyone’s looking, you hightail it up the chimney.”

Link laughed. “Or out the door, that’s easier. What’s breakdancing?”

“Difficult,” Thoria said. “I was never much good. Couldn’t get the hang of spinning on my head.”

“I’ll just pretend I know what you mean,” Link said. “But no, I need to stay.” He looked at her again, drinking in her form. “How did you get the tailor to make your dress? It’s so…” _beautiful. You’re beautiful. Did you mean what you said? Because I think I… NO. Stop._ “Different.”

“Lots of sketches, the promise of a favour, and whole lot of wheedling,” Thoria said, smirking.

“It’s tacky,” Navi muttered. Thoria closed her eyes for a fraction longer than a blink, her smile frozen in place.

“Jealousy is a terrible thing,” she said, pleasantly.

“I am not jealous!” Navi squawked.

“Enough!” Link snapped. “Give it a rest.”

“Sorry,” Thoria said, ducking her head.

“I didn’t mean you,” Link replied. He scooped Navi off his shoulder and walked a short distance away.

“I’ve had it with your bickering,” he said, holding her in front of his face. Navi crossed her arms and stuck her nose in the air. “I mean it. Keep cruel comments like that to yourself, or say nothing.”

“I’ll say what I want,” Navi repeated.

“Go sit with Zelda, then,” Link said, dropping his hand and forcing Navi to take flight.

“I’m not leaving you alone with her,” Navi replied, aiming for his shoulder. Link ducked out the way and glared. “Not when you could be in danger! Bad things always seem to happen when you two are alone!”

“Actually, it’s the opposite,” Link said. “I mean it. Go and keep Zelda company.” He forced a smile onto his face. “She will be in need of a friendly companion, look at all these nobles she has to talk to! Besides, I’ll be fine. What could possibly happen to me in a crowded room?”

“Lots,” Navi said, pouting. Link let his smile drop.

“Now,” he said. He turned and moved back to his small group, where Telma had returned with a red-faced and sweaty Shad. Thoria was laughing as he righted his spectacles.

Pursing his lips, Link moved next to her and cast his gaze over the crowd again. He spotted the Captain of the Guard mingling with a group close by,

“Marco!” he called, waving to him.

“Polo!” Thoria chirruped, a wide grin on her face. Link stared at her.

“What?” she said.

Captain Marco made his way over to them, smiling.

“A pleasure to see you again, Ser,” he said, shaking Link’s hand. “And you must be Lady Thoria.”

“That’s me,” she said.

“Marco’s the Captain of the Guard,” Link explained. “He oversees the security of the castle, the training of the soldiers, and almost everything else.”

“Sounds busy,” Thoria said, allowing Marco to kiss the air above her hand.

“It is,” Marco said, smiling. “How are you finding Hyrule so far?”

“It’s great,” Thoria said. “But never mind that. You train the soldiers?”

“I do.”

“You reckon you can set me up to spar with some of them?”

Marco blinked and Link laughed.

“She’s good, Marco. You’d need to send your best.”

“Ah, you’ve been training with her?”

“Yep.”

“Then you must be formidable,” Marco said to Thoria. She beamed. “I will see what I can do.”

“Great,” she replied. Then, she tilted her head to the side, paused, and gave Link a wicked grin.

“Our turn,” she said.

“What?” Link frowned, then realisation dawned as he recognised the opening notes of the song they had practiced to. “Oh, no. I told you, I’m not dancing.”

“Yeah you are,” Thoria said, smoothing her hair and taking his hand. “I’m not chucking a week’s worth of practice in the bin.”

“Thoriaaaa,” he complained, as she pulled him across the hall to the centre, where several couples were already dancing. “I don’t wanna!”

“If you do, I’ll owe you a favour,” she said, placing one hand on his shoulder and the other in his hand. “Anything in my power.” She winked.

 _Anything?_ he thought. A thousand things ran through his mind, each of them her. But Link shook his head. “Fine. But it’ll be a big one.” He placed a hand on her waist as she moved her hand from his shoulder and into his palm.

The introduction to the music finished, and the orchestra began to play in earnest. The music was much grander than it had been on the music player, which had been slightly tinny and quiet. Link and Thoria began their waltz, their steps swift, keeping in time. All around them, couples danced the same waltz, the click of heels on the marble almost a single sound.

“Not bad,” Thoria said as they went, the bottom of her dress flaring like liquid smoke. It was so very different from the rigid skirts of the nobility, that bobbed like clockwork. “But we’ve got a choice to make.”

“Oh?”

“Fancy or not fancy?”

Link rolled his eyes, conscious of the stares fixed upon them. “There’s a lot of people nearby. We might hit someone.”

“They’ll move,” Thoria said. She tilted her head to the side as they spun. “I’ll throw in another favour.”

“On your head be it,” Link said. “If I screw this up, I’ll have to hide for the rest of my life.”

“That’s fair,” she said. “So long as I can hide with you.” She stepped back as though she was about to walk away from him, her fingers brushing his outstretched palm. That was his cue. If he allowed her to walk away, the dance would be over, and he could go back to standing, unobtrusive, by the wall. No embarrassment, no attention, just peace. And he wouldn’t get to dance with her.

Link caught her wrist and pulled her back, looping his arm so that she spun in a small, contained circles, leading her in a wider arc around his body. She smiled at him, keeping her face turned to his until the movement forced her to turn her head, snapping round to face him again in the time it took to blink. Briefly, Link wondered if she got dizzy when she moved her head so fast. As he brought her in for the waltz again, he leaned her back, feeling her muscle through her dress. It was backless, and her skin was warm.

As the music increased in intensity, Thoria spun around so that her back was to him. They bent in different directions, undulating like reeds, but never quite touching, before she spun back to face him, her arm across his chest, his across her shoulders. They revolved in place, eyes locked on each other, their hips touching as they stood side by side. As the music picked up speed, so did they, coming together to waltz then whirling away again.

As they danced, Link’s trepidation melted away. His feet were sure, and it seemed that all that was in the room with him was the music and Thoria. He raised his hand, and Thoria touched his palm with the fingertips of both her hands, spinning on the spot. He tucked his hand around her waist and spun, her body winding around his like a cat, her feet trailing. She rose with her back to him and he placed his hand on her hip, the other extended, covering the back of her hand as they danced. He crossed his hands as she faced him, whirling her round until her feet left the ground and she twisted horizontally in the air, landing to waltz with him once more.

As the music lulled, she cartwheeled away, drawing a gasp from those watching. She danced alone on the spot, becoming one lithe, curving form, as graceful as though she was made of water. Link stared at her, quite forgetting to dance his own, solo part. It seemed as though all the lights in the hall had dimmed, and the only light left shone upon her as she moved. She ran a hand along her leg, raising it, her fingers keeping the material of her dress at her ankle. She pointed her toes to the ceiling, revolving in place, and muted gasps filtered through the dense fog in his mind. She curved and bent, as elegant as a ribbon caught in a breeze. It was otherworldly, it was captivating, it was _magical_. So enraptured was he that he almost forgot to move to her as the music swelled again. Thoria took two running steps and leapt through the air, and he caught her mid-flight like a groom holds his bride, whirling her round in his arms until she slid his grasp and touched the ground with her foot, balanced on his hip.

His hand on her waist, the other out for balance, she pointed her toes as they spun again, she leaning out almost horizontally. But only for a moment, and she slid down and spun away, then back into him as they waltzed again.

“Ready?” she asked, a breath in his ear.

Mutely, he nodded. As the music reached a crescendo, she slid to the ground, as if in slow motion. Link took her crossed hands and stood over her, as if to help her up. He pulled, and she came effortlessly back up, up into the air, as though propelled by an unseen force. Link moved as though he were spinning a lasso, feet planted in place as Thoria flew around his head, her legs almost a split, her dress trailing through the air. Dimly, he heard gasps from the distant crowd as she landed neatly back into the waltz.

With the last notes of music singing to a gently slowing close, he placed his hands on her waist, her back to him, and lifted her over his head where she arched her back in a perfect curve. They revolved in place once more, and he lowered her gently, her turning to face him, running her fingers along his cheek, still spinning, slowing, slowing like the music, until silence rang through the Great Hall and she relaxed into him, her hands on his shoulders.

For a moment, she was pressed against him. Her face was an inch from his, her hair coming loose, tumbling about her forehead. His lips parted, and he felt as though he were falling, lost in the evergreen forest of her eyes.

And then the hall exploded in thunderous applause. Link jumped half a foot in the air, his hand flying to his back, but he had no sword. Behind him, Thoria was laughing delightedly.

“We did it!” she said, as a swarm of guests descended upon them.

“Absolutely incredible!” Lord Baldur roared, pounding Link on the back.

“Where did you learn that?” Lady Cassandra cried, leaning forward to take Thoria’s hands.

“Unbelievable, simply unbelievable!” Lord Symper gushed. “You _must_ teach me how to dance this way! And your partner!” he turned to Thoria, flushed from their dance. “You move like a cat, my lady, like a leaf on the wind! Was this a dance native to your land?”

“Yeah, kinda,” Thoria said, grinning as the crowd pressed in on them.

Link barely heard the compliments that showered them. He hardly saw the smiles on the faces of the nobility, and cared even less that somehow, he had earned his way into their good graces at last. All he saw was Thoria, her hair coming loose from her bun, framing her face. All he heard was her laughter as she waved away praise, suddenly shy in the light of attention.

All he thought, in the clamour that surrounded them, amidst the crashing ocean of sound and movement, was that he had found an island in the midst of a storm. An island of calm, of tranquillity, of peace.

He could deny it no longer.

He didn’t like her.

He was in love with her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone is interested in the music I had in mind whilst writing the dance, it's here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EOrE2Qr1FMU  
> Blackheart - Two Steps from Hell. Headphones and high volume are recommended!


	52. 52 - Zelda

Zelda stared, dumbstruck, at the crowd of nobles surrounding Link and Lady Thoria. Even Navi was silent at her elbow. She had watched impassively as Thoria had half-dragged her Hero to the centre of the hall amongst the dancers, feeling only the smallest twinge of jealousy. She would dance with him later, to honour him for his deeds. This, at least, would show her his skill, to see if he could indeed dance the courtly way.

What she saw astounded her. Though they began simply enough, soon the pair were whirling about the hall as though they were two butterflies caught in a tornado, moving ever faster. Lady Thoria even seemed to take flight, so effortlessly did Link lift her as they moved on from the traditional dance and into something else. She moved like a spirit, like something not truly of this world, so elegant were her movements.

Zelda could barely appreciate the talent they displayed as the nobles began to take notice and moved away, watching, until it was just Link and Thoria, just them, alone, absorbed in their dance. All Zelda saw were his hands on her waist, on her back, tucked under her leg as she pressed her whole body against him in a _most_ provocative way.

And then they had finished. From across the hall, Zelda saw them. Their faces so close together. Their expressions. How he held her. And then the guests had applauded and swarmed them, shielding them from her eyes.

Zelda felt cold. Something had happened that she just couldn’t explain. Her old doubts surfaced, and all thoughts of giving the stranger a second chance were gone. She looked across the hall and saw the Mage of Shadows, leaning against the wall, as still as a statue. Slowly, his head tilted to the side. Zelda gave a single, deliberate nod.

The Mage raised a hand, clicked his fingers, and vanished.

Zelda settled back in her chair and drained a full goblet of wine. Tonight, this would end. Things would go back to normal. She kept a close eye on Thoria, standing shoulder to shoulder with Link, still surrounded by adoring guests. Her hair was coming undone, but far from making her look dishevelled, she looked even prettier with her hair framing her face. Zelda curled her lip in a most unladylike fashion.

And then she spotted the Mage, making his way through the crowd. He approached Link and appeared to congratulate him, grasping his hand, patting him on the shoulder. He then turned to Thoria and spoke quietly with her. As Link was accosted by yet more guests, Zelda saw the Mage put an arm around her shoulders and lead her across the hall to the great glass doors that led outside.

Zelda sucked in her breath and released it explosively. It would be done. She rose, plastering a smile to her face, and descended the platform, heading to Link. The crowd parted as she approached.

“Ser Link,” she greeted him. He bowed.

“Your Highness,” he said.

“That was quite the show,” Zelda said, smiling up at him. Even in her high heels, she was not as tall as he was. “Where did you learn to do this?”

“Thoria taught me,” he said, with a wide smile. “I was going to put it in my report for you, Princess. She remembered a few dances from her homeland and put them together. I showed her what I could of our more… traditional dances, and she made this one up. It incorporates both our worlds, isn’t that brilliant?”

“Indeed,” Zelda said, her smile tight and painful. “I am impressed.”

“I’m glad it went well,” Link said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I was afraid I’d stumble and spoil it.”

“You would never spoil anything,” Zelda said. She raised a hand and signalled to the orchestra, and they began to play a slow, romantic melody. It was a favourite song of hers. With lyrics, it spoke of a princess and her prince, cursed and hidden amongst commons, but her love for him showed the world his true, regal self. She found it poignant. “I would give you the honour of this dance, Ser.”

To her surprise, Link’s smile slipped for a second. But then it was back, and he was ducking his head.

“I am indeed honoured,” he said. “However, I fear I am somewhat tired from…”

“Nonsense,” Zelda said, stepping closer. “This is a slow, simple dance. Do not refuse me.”

Link bowed his head. “As you command.” He obediently raised his hands, and Zelda stepped to him. She almost shivered as the warm weight of his hand brushed her shoulder, touched her back. His touch was light, and he seemed hesitant, but he would be. She was the princess, after all. He would naturally be nervous.

Zelda held him tightly as they danced together. She slyly inhaled, breathing in his scent. She had been right in her imaginings. He smelled of summer and fresh grass. She resisted the urge to lay her head on his shoulder, and instead kept her back straight, her posture regal. Surely he could see just how regal she was, hoe beautiful, how special. Yes, courtesy dictated that he remain as distant as he was, but oh, if she could just stay in his arms forever… she would allow the kingdom to fall if it meant he could be hers.

Navi flittered around them, her gentle light encircling them. Zelda willed the musicians to slow the song, to draw it out, so she had an excuse to stay this close to her Hero for longer. For ever. He kept his steps simple, and part of her wished he would whirl her around the room as he had Lady Thoria. How she longed to feel the air rush through her hair, to feel his hands on her back, on her leg, on her face as he tilted it to kiss her…

She gazed up at him as the song began to wind down. He was staring over the top of her head, seemingly at nothing. But then he looked down and gave her a quick, guarded smile. It was a secret smile, it seemed. One that spoke a thousand words, all of them hidden, but she could decipher their meaning, if only he would smile at her again! She could return it, and they would have their own, unspoken, private language. But he didn’t look down again. Zelda longed for it. If only he would, then perhaps he would look at her properly, and stop, as he realised his love for her. He would bow his head and they would kiss, here, in front of everybody, and the old traditions be damned!

But he didn’t. Of course he didn’t.

As the song ended, Navi flew high above and released a burst of white-blue sparkles that floated down upon them, like glitter. Link released her and stepped back almost before the last note had truly faded. The surrounding guests applauded politely, but to Zelda, it seemed perfunctory. It was not as powerful or rousing as the applause had been for he and Thoria.

No matter. Zelda stepped back and dipped into an elegant curtsey, and Link responded with a deep bow. He smiled once more, a mere upturning of his lips, before Telma swept in and carried him off in a bone-crushing hug.

Now that her first dance was out of the way, Zelda found many of the noblemen approaching her in hope of the same honour. Smiling resignedly, Zelda approached Lord Symper, who engaged her in a spirited jig that left her breathless and giggling, despite herself.

As the night wore on, Zelda danced with almost all of her suitors, and many of the lesser noblemen. After several more goblets of wine, she even favoured the scholar Shad with a brief twirl that left his face scarlet and his glasses steaming. As the music became ever livelier, the guests left off their court-approved dances, and began to bumble about in their own way, jigging this way and that as the music and the wine took them. Hair came down from nets, suit jackets were removed, and the nobility of Hyrule rubbed elbows more amicably with those less fortunate, but lucky enough to have known the Hero of Twilight.

Zelda took a moment to rest, flopping down in her chair and easing off her heels under her dress. Impa sat beside her, a goblet of wine in her hand, a slightly rosy glow on her cheeks under her customary high collar. Zelda caught her eye, and they shared a giggle. For a time, she was content to watch her guests become more boisterous, one noble even attempting to lift his lady like Link had lifted Thoria. They fell to the floor in a tangle of skirts to a roar of laughter.

Zelda smiled, and cast her gaze about the hall. Her smile faded. Then, she frowned.

Where was Link?

“Navi,” Zelda said, and the fairy lurched into the air. The little face had drunk an awful lot for her size. “I can’t seem to see Link. Go and find him for me, would you?”

“He’s probably with that bitch,” the fairy slurred. She gave a clumsy curtsey in mid-air. “I’ll find him!”


	53. 53 - Link

“Thoria!” Link called, running along the corridor. From behind, the sounds of the party echoed.

“Thoria?” he opened a door and peered in. The room was dark and empty. He tried the kitchens, random doors, even their secret alcove. She was nowhere to be found. Link spun on the spot, staring up and down the corridor, his heart in his throat.

She couldn’t have left. She couldn’t have! Not after all the time they’d spent together, not after the rooftop, not after their dance! She couldn’t have just… left him.

Link felt tears well up behind his eyes, unbidden and unwelcome. He scrunched up his face and bared his teeth. She was probably just… redoing her hair. Or in the restroom. She wasn’t gone.

But it had been nearly two hours since he had seen her last, and something felt wrong. One moment she had been by his side, revelling in their success, and then, she was gone. He hadn’t been concerned to begin with. Everyone seemed to want to speak with them after their dance. And what a thrill it had been! How they had moved so fluidly, seamlessly, how easily it had all come. It was all down to her.

Link paced the corridor. Everything was different now. Now he knew. He knew he loved her. Loved her like he had loved no one else, in all his lives. The burning passion he felt dwarfed his past loves, leaving them mere candle flames against the intensity of the sun itself.

But now she was gone.

He jumped as a rumble of thunder echoed from outside, followed by a flash of blueish-green lightning. He peered out into the dark gardens, unable to see anything but black through the glass. It wasn’t unheard of for the summer storms to come this late, but thankfully there was no rain. Link bit his lip as a shout echoed up from below. Parties always had at least one drunken row. It sounded like a lord and lady were fighting. He dithered. Usually, he would rush down to end the fight before someone got hurt, but he couldn’t, not now. He had to find Thoria.

Anxious, Link made his way back to the party. Surely she was there, perhaps searching for him? He couldn’t leave her too long. It was still his duty to be by her side, whether it was by royal order or not.

The Great Hall was a different scene. It was louder and rowdier, almost like an incredibly posh tavern. He scanned the hall, searching for the black diamond that had stolen his heart. But he could not see her. Another flash of light lit a couple of the windows, but the noise of the hall drowned out any thunder that came.

“Something troubling you, honey?” Telma asked, sidling up to him. Her cheeks were rosy, and an intoxicated Shad hung limply from her arm.

“I can’t find Thoria,” Link explained. “I’ve looked everywhere!”

“Oh, I’ve not seen her for a time,” Telma said, a small frown appearing on her face. “I’d love to help you look, honey, but I’ve got to get this one home.” She jiggled her arm, and Shad groaned, his glasses askew.

“That’s okay,” Link said, forcing a weak smile onto his face. “I’m sure she’s here somewhere.”

“You’re right,” Telma said, with a wink. She pointed, and Link followed her finger. Across the hall the great glass doors stood open, allowing the cool evening air inside. Just outside the light that spilled onto the marble, a woman in a black dress stood waiting.

“Thoria,” Link said, hardly daring to believe it. Without a backward glance, he sprinted across the hall, dodging stumbling nobles and leaping over tumbling guests. He skidded out onto the marble patio and almost bowled her over, wrapping his arms tightly around her. She yelped in surprise.

“Where the hell have you been?” he asked, half angry, half relieved. “I thought I’d lost you!”

“Some noble wanted to show me something in the garden,” Thoria said, her voice muffled. “Sorry. I guess I was gone longer than I thought.”

“Hylia alive, tell me next time,” Link said. He held her tightly, and became aware of her arms around his back. Her hair had come down from its bun and was tangled, as though she had been caught in a storm.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled into his shoulder. “I didn’t think. I guess it was the wine, or the party, or whatever. I don’t know. I won’t do it again.”

Link released his grip, standing back and holding her by the shoulders. Her skin was as smooth as silk, her muscle hard underneath. She was shivering, her breathing shallow.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing,” she said, too quickly. “I’m just cold.”

“Tell me,” he said. Her eyes were wide, and he knew the haunted look only too well. It was the expression he wore whenever he woke from a nightmare.

“I just did. I’m okay. Really.” She smiled up at him, though she still trembled. “What about you? Flying out here at me like a torpedo.”

“I was scared,” he said. “I thought I’d lost you.”

Thoria’s eyes softened. “Why would I ever leave you?”

Link ducked his head and let her go, thankful that the darkness of the night hid his burning face.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “I suppose we should get back.”

Thoria hesitated and smoothed her wild hair. “Nah,” she said. “Now’s a good a time as any to escape. Let’s raid the kitchen and go to the roof again.”

Link smiled. “That sounds like an amazing idea.”

Instead of sidling back into the Great Hall, where there was a risk of being waylaid by drunk partygoers, Link led Thoria around the outside of the castle, hugging the walls and dashing past the windows. Reaching the kitchen, they stole inside, finding the room blessedly empty of people. There, Link grabbed what food he could, and by the clinking of bottles behind him, guessed Thoria had found wine.

They crept out, the babble from the Great Hall echoing through the corridor. They were up the stairs and halfway along the hall when Thoria suddenly barrelled him through a door and into a dark room.

“Wha-?”

“Shh!” she said, raising a finger to her lips. Link obediently closed his mouth, listening. Thoria kept her finger to her lips, eyes on the crack in the door. Light spilled through, throwing a stripe over her face. A minute passed. Then he heard it, faint on the air, growing louder.

“Link! Come out! You’re missing your party!” Navi called.

Link gave Thoria an astonished look.

“How did you hear her?” he mouthed. She shook her head, watching. There was a tinkling, and Link caught a glimpse of Navi as she flew past, her blue glow unmistakeable.

As her voice faded, Thoria gave him a nudge, and they left the dark room, hurrying along the hall once more. Link fought down a laugh. It was, perhaps, cruel to hide from the fairy, but tonight, he wanted to be alone with Thoria. His acceptance of his feelings for her gave him a warm glow, giving him energy, sitting brightly in his chest.

He didn’t know exactly what he would do with it. Should he tell her and risk frightening her away? Or was it better to just remain as they were, as friends, safe from the risk of rejection. But for how long could he remain just friends with her, before he tired of it and made a stupid, thoughtless move that pushed her away? He shook his head. He would think on it later, when his mind was clearer.

He made to move for his rooms, hoping to scale the wall there, but Thoria shook her head.

“Navi will find us,” she said. Link saw her eyes were still a little wild around the edges. “This way.”

She led him to the very top floor of the castle and into the astronomy tower. Panting a little, they ascended the final, spiralling staircase.

The tower’s room was large and circular, dominated by an enormous telescope that pointed out of a gap in the roof. Astral charts and diagrams papered the walls, lit only by a single torch. A blanket lay draped across the back of a chair, and Link took it, swinging it around his shoulders like a cape.

Wordlessly, Thoria tucked the wine down the bodice of her dress, the tight material holding the bottles securely. Link took a second to marvel at how the fabric didn’t tear, and allowed himself to hope that it would.

Thoria removed her shoes and climbed up onto the telescope, crawling along until she sat outside, before levering herself up onto the roof.

“Come on!” she called. Link followed her, finding the telescope to be sturdy. He scurried along it, holding the food under his arm, and poked his head out into the night. The roof was an easy reach, and he found Thoria shuffling along the conical tiles. He followed as she dropped down onto the lower roof and tucked herself against the tower wall. He swung down next to her as she settled, handing him a bottle of wine.

“How did you know this would get us up here?” he asked.

“It’s what I do,” she said, uncorking her own wine and taking a healthy gulp. “I drink and I know things.” The ghost of a smile crossed her face.

Link spread the blanket across his shoulders and tucked it around Thoria. Her skin was cool, and he shuffled closer to her, placing the food at their feet. He had managed to snaffle half a loaf of bread, a wedge of cheese and some apples.

Thoria was still quiet, cradling her wine and staring out over the rooftop. It was much higher than his usual spot, and Link found he could see even further across the kingdom than before.

“So, tell me,” Link said. “What happened?”

“I’m fine,” Thoria said, sipping her wine.

“This sounds familiar,” he said, with a smile. Thoria did not return it. “Something happened. Did that noble hurt you?”

Thoria shrugged and avoided his eyes. “Tried,” she said, in a small voice. Link tensed as anger roared through him, stripping away his warm glow.

“What did he do?” he growled.

Thoria glanced at him.

“You look like a wolf when you’re angry,” she said, giving a weak smile. When Link did not return it, she sighed.

“Who was it?” Link demanded.

“Don’t know. Never saw his face.”

“Tell me what happened,” he said, again.

“He... well. It doesn’t really matter.”

“It does to me,” Link said, taking her hand.

“Don’t worry,” Thoria said, looking away, gazing over the moonlit kingdom. “I’m not hurt, and he won’t bother me again.”

There was a dark note to her voice. Link decided not to push her. She was still trembling, and he put his arm around her shoulders. She didn’t pull away. He wanted to kiss her, but it didn’t feel like the right moment. He settled for pulling her closer, protecting her from the chill in the air.

“If he shows his face again,” Link murmured. “I’ll kill him for you.”

She chuckled. “I believe you.”


	54. 54 - Zelda

Zelda awoke to a sore head and a mouth full of cotton. She groaned and buried her head under her pillow. How much wine did she drink last night?

Wearily, she rose, bathed with Impa’s help and stumbled into an elegant dress of light blue satin with a creamy waist sash, patterned with the Hylian crest. Breakfast was delivered to her chambers, and within the hour, she felt well enough to face the day.

Journeying through the castle, she observed the wreckage of the party, whilst servants hurried to clean it. Goblets had been strewn in every available corner, crusts of food peppered the lower corridors, and there were more wine stains than she cared to count. She smiled. The night had been an astonishing success.

Not only had the nobility showered her with compliments on such a fine evening, but she was now rid of the troublesome stranger. Her heart lurched as she remembered Link’s dance with her. The look that had passed between them had been so powerful she could almost smell it. But she no longer had to worry. Link had no more special duties to adhere to now. She would wait for the news that Lady Thoria had vanished, and dutifully would send out soldiers and her Hero to look for her. And when she was not found, Link could return to her side.

She smiled to herself. All would be well. With Thoria gone, the prophecy would not come to fruition. Hyrule was safe.

Giddy with the thought, Zelda almost floated to the throne room, where she spent her morning listening to the commons with a more attentive ear than she had in years, even going so far as to kiss a newborn infant, giving her blessing to the child and its parents. Though the baby screeched something terrible as she approached and planted a kiss on its tiny forehead, she felt that even that grating sound could not bring her down from her happy cloud.

Even the message from her father could not spoil her mood. The King demanded that she write a heartfelt apology to Lord Dool for her ‘disgraceful conduct’ towards him the night previous. She waved the messenger away with a smile and a promise that she would. She would not think about the consequences of her actions today. Dool could be mollified by simple, sweet words, and her poets could do that for her, leaving her quill unsullied.

As the commons left, following the midday bell, Zelda strolled along the corridors with Impa, unable to keep the smile from her face.

“Please do what you can to find the Mage of Shadows,” she said. “I have to know the result of his task.”

Impa bowed, and moved away, her long stride swift and determined. Alone in the corridor, Zelda watched her go. She tilted her head back and sighed. The fact that the Mage of Shadows had not come straight to her to inform her of his victory was irritating. But, it was true that the Mage of Shadows served himself more often than was proper, and would fly to all corners of the kingdom as his fancy took him. But surely so soon after completing his task, he would return to her with the news first?

Zelda shook her head, and began to descend through the castle. The late summer sun was high in the sky, and she felt a longing to feel its rays on her face before the seasons turned too far. Little could dampen her mood, and the thought of a stroll through the gardens, enjoying the last of the summer’s warmth, lifted her spirits even higher. She smiled readily at those she passed, not even having to try to bring the happiness to her lips.

Reaching the gardens, she began a leisurely stroll, taking the time to enjoy the sun on her face. She listened to her heels click on the marble path, the soft birdsong in the air, the trickling of water from the fountains. She paused to bury her nose in a large rhododendron bush, inhaling deeply and smiling. She fingered the flowers gently, marvelling at their soft petals as bees bumbled between the pink blossoms.

Her walk took her along the path shaded by trees and under a grand stone arch. She paused at the entrance to the Glade of Hylia. It was a peaceful, beautiful place. A few tall trees rose into the sky, the walls lined with abundant flowers. At the end, a statue of Hylia soared into the air, her benevolent hands held out, her face lowered, a gentle smile on her lips. Sunlight slanted through the trees, throwing golden rays of light amongst the green. Zelda returned the stone smile and approached.

Kneeling before the statue, she put her hands together.

“Goddess Hylia,” she murmured. “I thank you for your assistance in protecting Hyrule. Thank you for sending the Mage of Shadows unto me, and for his assistance. I feel more at peace with the world, and I am grateful. Thank you for being my guiding light, my blood, my holy power. I know now that Hyrule will see a time of great peace.”

She paused, her eyes closed.

“I would ask your assistance once more,” she said. “I beg for your guidance. Show me the way to ensure the triforce is united. Let wisdom and courage be together once more, as they were when you first came down from the heavens. I know this will bring peace and prosperity to the land we both love so much.”

All that answered her was birdsong. Zelda was not disheartened. She knew that Hylia would not speak. She never did, just as the three goddesses never spoke. But that did not matter. She could feel her presence, comforting and gentle.

After a time, she rose, brushing the front of her dress. She curtsied to the statue of Hylia, and continued her walk, following the creamy path as it wound through her splendid gardens. The stream hushed nearby, and she knew that following it around the corner would take her to the lake. Her steps were light, and she twirled a little on the path, her dress flaring out at her feet. She wanted to run and jump and dance and sing, for the stranger was gone, gone from Hyrule!

With the air still warm, she smiled at the thought of dandling her feet in the water of the lake, her dress hitched scandalously up to her knees, weaving a flower crown, just like she did as a child. Eagerly, she picked up the pace. When Impa returned, she would send for Link. No doubt the poor thing would be fretting, searching for the stranger. A little time spent by the lake, relaxing in the sun would do them both wonders.

As Zelda rounded the corner, she stopped in her tracks. Link was already standing at the edge of the lake, and he was not alone.

Lady Thoria was there.

She sat on the bank, her black trousers rolled up to her knees, her feet in the water. She was laughing, smiling up at Link, as he waved his hands emphatically. Zelda could not hear what he was saying. She could hear nothing but the blood rushing in her ears, her heart pounding in her chest.

 _How_ was she here? How, when she had _seen_ the Mage of Shadows take her outside? Was this part of his plan, or had something interrupted him? The air seemed to grow cold about her, and her happy little bubble burst, the golden warmth of it dripping off her skin, leaving her trembling.

Speechless, she watched as Lady Thoria pointed at something and raised one of her legs as Link turned, planting her foot firmly on his backside and pushing him. His arms windmilled as he teetered, before he fell into the lake with a yelp. Lady Thoria doubled up as he surfaced, gasping. Her smile turned to shock as he grabbed her ankle and pulled her into the water as well.

Zelda watched them for a while, numb as they splashed water at each other and laughed. Ordinarily, she would have found the scene hilarious, but she could do nothing but stare, unable to tear her eyes away. She did not know what she was looking for, but she dreaded seeing it. But, they kept a respectful distance from each other, and when they climbed out, sodden, Link’s helping hand was just that, handing her out of the water. They began to drip their way back towards the castle, and Zelda came back to herself.

She looked frantically from side to side, before throwing herself headlong into a bush. There, she crouched, her fingers over her mouth as they passed.

“…Zora game,” Link was saying. “You find the highest waterfall you can and dive from it. It’s exhilarating.”

“I bet,” Lady Thoria replied. “I don’t think I could though. I’m not too fond of heights, if I’m honest.”

“You didn’t seem to have a problem with the roof.”

“You weren’t telling me to jump off the roof.”

Their voices faded, and Zelda eased herself back out onto the path, her mind whirling.

She must speak with the Mage of Shadows. She _must_ know why he had been unable to send Lady Thoria away. If it was a case of something ridiculous like the moon not being in the right position, all she had to know was when it had to be, and she would find some reason for Lady Thoria to be alone! It was not difficult!

She thought back to the scene she had watched. For all the world it seemed as though it were two friends enjoying an afternoon together. She glared at the ground. She had ordered him to distance himself. He must do so, for the safety of Hyrule! Now that her plans had gone askew, it was more important than ever that he behave in a manner appropriate, and adhere to his duty as she commanded! She would have to remind him.

But what would he think of that, to know that she had seen him? Would he think her spying on him? She shuddered. She had the utmost trust in her Hero, and he knew it. What would he think of her if he suspected she was spying? No. She would have to trust that he knew what he was doing. After all, if he distanced himself too quickly, the stranger might think something amiss, and bring destruction down upon them all the sooner.

Zelda’s walk was slow through the gardens. She could see a single set of damp footprints on the path. Her eyes on her feet, she did not look up to greetings from passing nobles. Her mind was far away, filled with worries for the kingdom, and for herself, her people, her suitors.

But her thoughts turned dark. Link was _her_ Chosen Knight, _her_ Hero! Regardless of whether he was adhering to his duty or not, the mere sight of them together sent prickling waves of jealousy through her body. It knotted and twisted in her stomach. Something must be done to stop this stranger from harming the kingdom, from keeping her Link away from her!

If only Link was a nobleman. If only she were a commoner! If only the laws of Hyrule were not so rigid, so draconian, so archaic! She would have him away from that woman, have him safe from her wiles, whatever they were. If they were betrothed, engaged… married… then he would not have to endure countless days with this stranger, and she would not have to endure being away from him for so long. But what could she do? She was helpless before the law of the land. Even as Princess of Hyrule, she still had to abide by them. Miserably, she kicked at an errant stone on the path, sending it skittering away into the undergrowth. What was the point in being a princess if she couldn’t do what she wanted in this, the most important of decisions?

She thought of them again, laughing by the lake. Splashing each other like children. The naturalness of their interactions. Her eyes hardened. She must do something. If she, the princess of all Hyrule, could not have her Hero, no one should have him.

As she approached the castle once more, she stopped, something catching her eye.

Something was glinting in the flowerbed. Bending, she reached out and plucked it from the ground, wiping the dirt away with her fingers.

It was an elegant, silver ring, set with three sapphire stones.


	55. 55 - Link

The days that followed the party were some that Link counted among the best of his lives. Now that he had finally accepted his feelings for Thoria, he felt more at ease with himself, calmer, and happier. Even his nightmares had dwindled to sullen flickers of darkness, and whilst they still startled him into wakefulness, covered in sweat, biting off the beginning of a scream, his heart did not race quite so hard, and it was easier to return to sleep, his mind full of her.

Their days were spent as normal, training in the mornings and lounging in the library in the afternoons, with small breaks to wander the gardens or explore the castle. He found it hard to keep the smile from his face, even when Navi muttered under her breath, or when he provided his ever-shortening evening report to Zelda.

Though, the princess had not taken his most recent report. Impa had taken it instead, citing that the princess was absorbed in her research, and as such, would not be seeing him until she had found what she was looking for. Link didn’t question it. Indeed, he felt a small relief. With Zelda’s wisdom, he doubted he could hide his feelings for Thoria from her, and he knew she would be disappointed, and angry with him for failing to distance himself. He would risk being separated from her if Zelda knew.

“Got another one,” Thoria said, as he greeted at her door, the seventh morning after the party. She stepped into his arms for their customary greeting, and he fought not to hold on as she released him. He still hadn’t told her. He didn’t know how to. But that could wait. He was in no rush to change this newfound happiness. He had all the time in the world.

“Another?” he said, as they began their walk to the great hall. “Who is it this time?”

Thoria produced a scroll from her pocket and shook it out.

“Lord Denwelth,” she said. “Praising my loveliness and inviting me to dinner.”

Link rolled his eyes. Since their dance, both he and Thoria had been inundated with letters and invitations from the nobility, offering compliments, singing praises, asking favours, and, at least in Link’s case, making none-too-subtle invitations to more private areas of their respective manors.

“Are you going to go?” he asked, knowing the answer.

“Not unless you’re there with me,” she said. “I’ve not had a response back from anyone yet. I guess they forgot you’re my escort.” She smirked.

“I guess it has its perks,” he replied.

Their training hours flew by, clashing together with swords and spears, Link still besting her each time. Though the gap in their skill seemed to be closing, and he found that Thoria lost only narrowly in a handful of their bouts.

They wandered the castle for a while afterwards, Thoria pointing out places where she believed secret tunnels through the castle lay. A nondescript patch of wall, a painting that was glued to the stone, even a heavy statue of a proud knight. Link smiled as she chattered away, pouring over the hand-drawn blueprint she had copied. She didn’t investigate any of the suggested places, but Link was perfectly content to just listen to her talk.

They found themselves in the library again that afternoon, Thoria eagerly devouring scroll after scroll of Ancient Hylian, making notes, and sharing interesting titbits of history. Navi was elsewhere, and Link found he didn’t mind in the slightest.

“Look at this,” she said, running her finger delicately along a line of indecipherable text. “The ancient Sheikah, or Shadow Folk, have long served the Royal Family of Hyrule.”

“I know,” Link said. “Impa is a Sheikah, and she’s served Zelda for longer than I can remember.”

“Yeah, okay,” Thoria said, flapping her hand to quieten him. Link edged closer to peer at the unreadable scroll, using the excuse to lean against the dark-haired woman, resting his chin on her shoulder. “But listen. They originally were servants and protectors of the Goddess Hylia, and are bound to protect her mortal forms.”

“Zelda,” Link said. Thoria ran a finger over her lips.

“It’s strange to think she’s more than just a princess,” she said. “In a way, she’s a goddess.”

“No,” Link shook his head. “Hylia gave up her divinity to save the people of Hyrule, long ago. Zelda’s as mortal as you or me.”

“You, maybe,” Thoria said, bumping him with her shoulder. He pushed hers in return, and they swayed together, each push becoming fiercer until Thoria tossed the scroll to one side and threw him to the sofa, climbing on top of him.

“Enough!” she said, laughing. “I’m trying to read.”

“Get off me, then,” Link replied, hoping that she would not. He longed to pull her down to him, to run his hands through her hair, to kiss her. But, he gave her a playful push, noting how the heel of his hands brushed her collarbone, his thumbs at the edges of her pale throat. Thoria sat astride him for a moment longer, before sticking her tongue out and climbing off, retrieving her scroll. Link immediately shuffled next to her again.

“I’ve lost my fucking place… ah. The Sheikah have been known to excel in all forms of stealth, and their agility and skill in hand-to-hand combat lends credence to their legendary status as assassins,” she read, her eyes wide. “I knew there was a reason Impa walked a bit funny.”

“She does?”

“Just a little. I suppose she’s lethal in a fight.”

“I wouldn’t want to fight her.”

“I’d love to learn,” Thoria said, wistfully. “But she wouldn’t even cross swords with me, when you went out with Zelda.”

“The Sheikah keep their secrets close to them,” Link said, watching her profile. Her lips pulled up, and he knew she was smiling with only half her mouth, the endearing, wonderful smile that made him want to kiss her.

“Still,” she said, rolling up the scroll. “I know of some martial arts from home. All sorts of different styles and techniques. I never learned, but I wish I had, now.”

“Why?” Link asked. He stuck a boot out and hooked her foot as she rose to return the scroll, and she stumbled, cursing. He laughed as she turned and swatted him with the parchment.

“Because it would have been useful,” she said. “I can’t imagine a time where I wouldn’t want to practice the subtle art of folding clothes while someone’s still wearing them.”

Link chortled as she pranced across the copper marble, sliding the scroll back amongst its brethren. She skimmed the shelves, wandering between them, her eyes flicking from one book to the next. Link heaved himself to his feet and followed.

“I wonder how much Sheikah lore is here,” she murmured. “Do you know much about them?”

Link shrugged. “Only bits.” He beckoned, and Thoria followed him out of the Library, winding through the corridors, taking no particular route.

“All I really know is what you’ve read,” he said. “But, centuries ago, when the Hyrulean Civil War was raging, they captured and interrogated many enemies of the kingdom.”

“Fun,” she said. The back of her hand brushed his, and Link allowed his fingers to curl, sliding along the outside of her palm before he drew back. He mustn’t rush and frighten her away. He took a breath, willing his heart to slow, but he couldn’t stop the smile spreading over his face.

“I suppose they’re like… covert agents, or something,” Thoria continued. “Did they have a secret base, do you know?”

Link’s smile slipped.

“They did,” he said. “The Shadow Temple. It’s a dark stain on Hyrule’s history, you won’t find mention of it in your books.”

“I haven’t,” she said. “How do you know about it?”

“Because I was there,” he said. “Or, the old me was.” He shivered.

He could see it as plainly as if he was there again. The dank, narrow passages, littered with bones. The walls, covered in rusted chains and stained with old blood. The countless torture machines, each seeming to scream with the echoes of long forgotten agony. The undead creatures swarming in the blackness, the hidden traps, visible only because he had the Lens of Truth.

His skin went cold as he remembered creeping through the darkness, the Lens pressed to his eye, his visibility narrowed to a small circle that revealed more horrors than he thought he would ever see in a lifetime. The reappearance of Dead Hand, reaching through the ground to snare him in a bony vice as the creature approached, teeth bared. He began to tremble, and stopped in his tracks.

Guillotines, the cross, knives and brands and racks. Scythes and blood and fire. Floormasters that split when he struck them, the tiny, withered hands clawing up his body, seeking to rend the flesh from his bones. Redeads, paralysing him with a piercing shriek as they lumbered closer and closer while he screamed inside his head. Bongo Bongo, the gigantic, headless demon that beat a pounding rhythm on his enormous drum with his huge, severed hands, singing in a disembodied, haunting voice. The manifestation of all the tortured souls poured into one, twisted being of evil and vile magic.

“Link?” Thoria waved her hand in front of his face. “What’s wrong? Come back to me, dude.”

Link stared ahead, unseeing, his gaze turned inward, remembering the giant hands snatching him up, crushing him. He could feel his bones break all over again, feel his ribs shatter, his skin split as he screamed. He had had to take the life of a bottled fairy, something he had never had to do before, and vowed never to do, to save his own. Navi didn’t speak to him for days.

“Earth to Link, earth to Link, this is Thoria calling!” she shook his shoulders. “For fuck’s sake, snap out of it!” and she clapped a hand across his ear.

Link stumbled, his ear warm and ringing. Thoria held him steady as he stared wildly about the corridor.

“The hell happened there?” she asked, softly, her eyes full of worry. “Are you okay?”

Link nodded, shivering. He forced a smile onto his face. He mustn’t show her, she must never see! She would run a mile if she knew.

“I’m okay,” he said. “The Shadow Temple was just a bit… grim. I’d forgotten.”

“Right.” Thoria stared at him, her own eyes wide, her brow creased. Her lovely red lips were parted. “You need a drink.”

 _I need a new brain,_ Link thought as she tugged him along the corridor. Her hand was cool in his, and he held on tightly until they reached the main entrance hall, where he was forced to drop it. Nobility and servants swarmed the hall, all of them keen of eye and loose of lip. He sighed.

He followed Thoria as they left the castle, bracing his shoulders against the nip in the air. The trees spotted about the grounds were beginning to turn, their lush green leaves showing hints of gold and ruby. Thoria grinned, letting out an expulsion of breath.

“Autumn’s here,” she said. “It’s my favourite season.”

“Oh?”

“Because of the colours,” she said. “I love how everything turns red and brown and orange and yellow. I love the frost on the ground in the mornings, the crispness of the air. Everything about it is beautiful.”

“Things die in the autumn,” Link said, throwing off another shudder.

“Oh, don’t be so glum,” Thoria teased. She flicked out a hand and batted away a wasp that had come too close. “The nasty bugs die. That’s not a bad thing.”

“The plants die as well,” he said. “What about your flowers? How will you speak their language if they’re dead?”

Thoria shrugged. “They just go dormant. They’ll be back in the spring. Besides, don’t you have winter flowers?”

He didn’t reply as they journeyed the mile to Castle Town. Link, not wanting to be subject to a hundred unabashed stares, led Thoria on a looping journey that circled through the back alleys, coming at last to Telma's bar.

Inside was quiet. The middle of the afternoon, only a few patrons huddled in the corners, staring into their tankards. The usual rabble would arrive as the sun set, but for now, the bar was blissfully silent.

Telma looked up as they entered, and a wide smile split her face.

“Link, honey! And Thoria too, look at you both!” she squeezed out from behind the bar and wrapped them both in a crushing hug. She planted a kiss on Link’s cheek, and a loud _mwah!_ told him she had done the same to Thoria.

“Come on in, have a seat,” she said, waving at the bar. “What can I get you?”

Link dug in his wallet and tossed a silver rupee onto the bar. “Something strong,” he said. Telma raised her eyebrows and chuckled.

“Now, honey, my bar does well, but I don’t know if I’ve got enough to break this up!”

“Don’t break it,” Link said, staring at the bar. “Just take whatever’s left over.”

“Suit yourself,” Telma winked, and brought out a bottle of gin and two glasses. “How’s things up at the castle?”

“Much the same,” Thoria said, accepting the glass Telma poured for her. “For the central hub of Hyrule, not much happens there.”

“That we know of,” Link threw the gin back, grimacing at the bite. “I’ve sat in on a few council meetings before. That’s where it all happens.”

“Sounds exciting,” Telma said, producing a cloth and wiping it casually over the spotless wood.

“It’s not,” Link replied. “It’s so boring I was tempted to set someone on fire the last time.”

Thoria laughed. “I’m sure you got that from me.”

Link shook his head. “Starting fires is a bit of a specialty of mine,” he said.

“Ah, the world’s handsomest arsonist,” she said, digging an elbow into his arm. Telma chuckled as Link felt his cheeks burn, though a smile stretched across his face. She thought he was handsome!

“How’s things here?” Thoria asked Telma as she straightened bottles.

“Oh, it’s much the same as always, honey,” she said. She looked up. “Hello, sir, what can I get you?”

The door had opened, and a burly man in a hooded cloak sidled in. His hood was up, and all Link could see beneath it was a tangle of brown beard, like thorns. He approached the bar and laid a blue rupee on the top of it.

“Ale,” he said, his voice low and scratchy. Link turned away as Telma poured and served, watching Thoria again. She had tilted the glass onto its bottom edge, and was rolling it in circles with her finger. He leaned on the bar, propping his chin in his hand, content to just watch. He felt the newcomer move away, and Telma came back to stand before them.

“Business is good,” she said. “I’m getting a good number of customers in each night. I think they all think they’re going to see our young Hero,” she winked at Link, who glanced away. “Ah, don’t be so modest! You did a great thing. People are going to want to see you.”

“I’m not an exhibit,” Link mumbled, helping himself to more gin. “It’s been nearly a decade.”

“And you keep doing grand things worthy of attention,” Telma teased. She reached over the bar and pinched his cheek. “The Moblin Rebellion, the Fiasco at the Harbour, saving all those kids from that burning building, and now this dragon, plus everything else besides. I can’t blame them, honey. Their little lives are rather dull.”

Link nodded with a sigh. “I suppose.”

Thoria glanced at him. “The Fiasco at the Harbour?”

Link allowed Telma to tell the story as the gin warmed inside him, and gradually, with a little help from Thoria and Telma, he began to brighten, the memories of the Shadow Temple retreating back into the dark cells of his memory. The gin went down smoothly after the first few burning glasses, and Link found it easier to laugh as Thoria told obscene jokes that sent Telma into a fit of girlish giggles. A few more patrons made their way into the bar, and some even joined them at the counter. Though Link was a little apprehensive at first, Thoria welcomed the newcomers, engaging them in conversation.

It was blindingly obvious that they were really there to see him. Their eyes rarely left his face, and they hung on to each of his short, soft words. But, with a little encouragement from Thoria, and the gin, he found his tongue loosening, and soon, the bar was lively with voices and laughter.

Through it all, Thoria was there. She directed the conversation masterfully, steering it away from talk of his adventures, keeping it in neutral territory. The other Hylians, it seemed, were just as keen to talk about themselves and their achievements as the nobility were. Even the burly, cloaked man had come over, standing behind Thoria, listening to their conversation, though he declined to join in.

As the night wore on, someone brought out a lute, another produced a flute, and soon, Telma’s little bar was filled with music. Someone began to sing a well-known song, and almost everybody joined in. The lute was soon passed about, the patrons who could play taking turns in plucking the strings and singing catchy, bawdy tavern songs.

The lute eventually made its way to Link, who chuckled and passed it jokingly to Thoria. He had enough attention without the commons knowing he could sing and play on top of everything else.

Thoria peered at the instrument a long while, until the patrons began to catcall, urging her to play something. Link felt a small twinge of guilt. She had never said she played, and…

He stopped. Thoria smoothed her hair and set her fingers to the strings.

“I think you’ve already sung all the rude ones,” she said, to gales of laughter. “I’m afraid I’m going to bring the mood down a bit. You all know by now I’m not from here…” she hesitated. “Well. This is one of my favourites from home. It’s about the Great War, of a hundred years ago.”

She began to play, a gentle introduction. And when she began to sing, a hush fell over the bar.

“ _Well, how do you do, young Willie McBride…_ ”

Thoria’s voice was raw and unpolished, but she carried the tune well enough. What stirred Link’s heart was the emotion in her voice, speaking of a young man, barely a child, an unknown soldier who had died in a war. It was a feeling they all knew, whether it was their war, or a war from another world. As she repeated the chorus, some of the more musically inclined joined in, their voices sombre, the lyrics haunting. Link bit his lip, imagining the countless grey gravestones standing silent in the graveyard just outside the town, each standing testament to the final resting place of a brave soldier who had fallen in the line of duty.

By the time she finished, there was not a dry eye in the house. Even Telma dabbed her eyes behind the bar. Thoria lowered her head and set the lute down. Link shivered. Though the song had been sad, he didn’t feel anything like he expected. There was a comfort to it, a reminder that he wasn’t alone. Countless people had fought and died, and though he alone rose again to fight on and on, enduring horrors beyond imagining, his sacrifice meant that less people would have to suffer.

Thoria rose from the bar and moved away. Seeing her sombre expression, Link followed. Tucked in a corner, he put his arms around her, emboldened by drink. She sighed, leaning against him.

“That was a lovely song,” he said. “I didn’t know you played.”

“Neither did I, until just now,” she admitted. “I almost didn’t, I’ve never played a lute, but it’s similar to what I had at home.”

He stroked the back of her hair, her cheek against his shoulder, her nose pressing against his neck. If there was ever a time to tell her how he felt, it would be now.

But the bar was growing rowdy again, and Link could feel the stares of the others drawing towards them, seeking them out. Reluctantly, he stepped away.

“We should get back,” he said. “It’s late.”

Thoria nodded and followed as he made for the exit, waving to Telma as they went.

The night air was cool, verging on cold. The streets were empty, their footsteps echoing as they left the noise and the light of the bar behind. Soon, the town was behind them, and they began the mile long walk back to the castle in silence.

Link’s head was still pleasantly buzzing from the gin, and he was a little unsteady on his feet. Thoria seemed to have weathered the drinking somewhat better, and she hummed under her breath, the tune one of the bawdier drinking songs. Link grinned, and joined in with a verse.

_The Zora met the Goron_

_And said in a voice of shock_

_Where on earth are your clothes, dear ser?_

_For I can see your-_

Thoria started laughing before he finished, setting him off. She took his arm, still giggling. Link grinned, his wide smile fading into something smaller, more at peace, as they walked. Perhaps he didn’t have to tell her tonight. They were sauced, and she would likely pass off his comments as nothing more than drunken ramblings. He would tell her another day, when the time was right, and he could string a sentence together without stumbling.

How would he do it? He mused. Many lords wrote their ladies poetry, or commissioned a bard to do it for them. But he was rubbish at poetry, and Thoria had never expressed an interest in it. He could compose her a song, a lyricless melody that spoke of his feelings for her. But such music could be easily misinterpreted. Perhaps he should write it all down, rehearse it, and tell her that way. But he would forget, and trip over himself, and lose his nerve.

Or maybe, he should just say it.

He slowed his pace. That would be easiest. Get it out, and over with. No room for stumbling, no time for misinterpretation. No one could mistake the meaning of the words, “I love you.”

He stopped in the middle of the path. There was a dull buzzing in his head, and the back of his hand was itching. He rubbed his glove, absently, as Thoria gazed about the quiet greenery, muted silver and navy blue under the moon.

“It’s lovely out here at night,” she said, her breath forming the slightest mist. “So peaceful.”

“It is,” Link said, watching her. Her hair shone in the moonlight, her skin almost white. He turned to her as she spun in a slow circle, gazing up, down and around.

“Thoria,” he said, stepping closer.

“Hey, a rupee!” she said, bending. As she did, something whizzed past Link’s nose. Something small, and thin, and hard.

He jerked back with an oath, his hand going to his sword.

The burly man from the bar stood twenty feet back from them, a crossbow in his hands. His hood was still up. He loaded another bolt as Link unhooked his shield and leapt in front of Thoria, who had turned at the sound.

“What the f-“

“Stay behind me!” he cried, raising his sword. The man fired the bolt, and Link ducked behind his shield, the bolt connecting with a dull _thunk_ that pushed him back a step.

The hulking man approached, loading the crossbow again.

“Stay back,” Link warned. “I mean it.”

“Move out of the way,” the man said, his voice rasping. “It’s not you I want.”

“What?” Stunned, Link lowered his shield a fraction, and the man leaned to the side, firing the crossbow again. Thoria yelped as it zinged past her leg.

“The hell is your problem?” she shouted. There was no fear in her voice, only anger. “What did I ever do to you?”

“Just business,” the man said, fitting another bolt into the chamber of the crossbow. Link growled, and inched forward, keeping Thoria behind him. The man sighed.

“I don’t want to be responsible for your death, Ser,” he said. “Move.”

Link bared his teeth. He just had to get within swinging distance, and the man would be history. He had dealt with many an assassin on the roads before, men hired to stop his mission to end evil in Hyrule, men hired by jealous husbands, sick of their wives mooning after him. Even the occasional hedge knight had attempted to sneak up on his camp, to win a name for themselves. He had dealt with them all, swiftly and with ease.

But this man was after Thoria.

Link snarled, and leapt forward, clearing the distance. The man leaned away, firing his crossbow again. Link caught the bolt on his shield, the force of it knocking him off balance. He stumbled as he landed, but he brought up his blade. It clanged against the man’s chest. Link cursed. He was armoured.

The man seemed to pay him no mind as he loaded another bolt, aiming at Thoria, who was standing, defenceless, up the path. Link lunged for the man, knocking his aim. The bolt flew, and Thoria’s hair lifted as it shot past her ear. She flinched, and balled her fists.

She drew her knife and charged, a wordless cry bursting from her lips. The burly man turned his head, distracted, and it was all Link needed. He swung his free hand into the back of the man’s head, and Thoria cannoned into him, knocking him off balance. She swiped viciously with her knife, advancing as the man stumbled back, and then leapt out of the way as he crashed to the ground.

Link twirled his blade and pointed it down, driving it through the thick armour. The man grunted, a cry hissing between his teeth. He struggled, his hands slipping on the blade, as Link pushed down, panting. Then, he lay still.

Link retrieved his blade as Thoria approached, her eyes wide and wild.

“Are you okay?” he asked, touching her face, brushing her hair out of her eyes. She nodded, throwing a dark look to the man. He was flat on his back, blood creeping out from under him.

Link cast a look back along the path. “Come on, we need to get back where it’s safe.”

“You don’t need to tell me twice,” Thoria said, rubbing her arms.

They half-ran the rest of the way, Link keeping so close to Thoria that he kept banging into her. Soon, they were back through the castle doors, and flying up the stairs to her rooms. Inside, Thoria sank onto the bed and fell back with a curse, her hair spreading over the covers.

“Out of all the fun I’ve had,” she said, “That’s one event I’m not keen to repeat.”

Link unhooked his weapons and laid them against the wall, coming to sit next to her.

“He was after you,” he said. “Why?”

“Beats me,” she said. “I’ve been with you all this time.”

“Who would want to hurt you?” he asked, the question rhetorical. Thoria shrugged anyway.

“No idea,” she said. “Maybe some jealous noblewoman who thinks we’re an item, or a lord who got a little too annoyed when I turned him down.”

“Or got embarrassed,” Link muttered, his eyes darkening. “Dool.”

“Hm? That fancy-pants git who thinks he’s hot shit?” Thoria propped herself up on her elbows. “Why would he go after me?”

“I beat him in an arm-wrestle,” Link reminded her. “In front of everyone. And then Zelda sent him home. He can’t attack her, so he must have settled for going after me.”

“But the man was trying to shoot me,” she replied, her brow knitted. “Why?”

Link shrugged uneasily. “I have no idea.”

Thoria watched him a long moment, before she sat up.

“I don’t know about you, but that little adventure wore me out.” She rose and stretched, bending this way and that. Link didn’t bother to avert his gaze. Someone, most likely Dool, had hired someone to kill her, to get at him, because he cared for her. He must be more vigilant. The thought of losing her was agonising.

“I can stay, if you want,” he said, the words coming to his lips without thought. “In case something else happens.”

“I’ll be okay,” she said, smiling down at him. She bent and kissed his cheek, her lips soft and cool. His mouth opened and he stared up at her, his heart racing from the simple touch.

“Thank you for looking out for me,” she said. “No one’s ever jumped to my defence like that. I’ve always had to look after myself.”

Link rose, tugging the front of his tunic down.

“I’ll always be here,” he said. He wanted her to kiss him again. If she made for his cheek, he would turn his head, and she would kiss him full instead. If she didn’t, then he should. He absolutely should. But as he leaned towards her, she moved away, picking up her hairbrush.

“You ought to sleep too,” she said, tugging the brush through her hair. “You look as tired as I feel.” She flashed a smile across the room at him, her special, half-smile. “Go on. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Link left, furious with himself. He had missed his chance, not once, but twice in the same night! But he had bigger things to worry about. He couldn’t be certain Dool was behind the attack. It could be any one of the nobility with enough money or connections to hire an assassin. Which meant all of them. But who could truly want to hurt her? Link glowered at the ground. If someone was trying to hurt Thoria, he had to find out why, and stop it before it ever happened again.


	56. Chapter 56

Navi followed Princess Zelda as she wound through the corridors of the castle, watching her dress swish about her ankles. The princess had donned a thick, white, fox-fur scarf to ward off the beginnings of the autumn chill. The tail draped over her shoulders, swinging in time with her footsteps.

They moved through a thick wooden door, coming out onto one of the narrow ramparts that connected the castle towers. It overlooked the training grounds, and Zelda stopped, leaning on the stone wall, gazing down.

The soldiers were training. Led by their Captain, they marched forth, drawing their swords and practicing their formations. They clanked through a drill, performing a variety of movements. Navi shivered, and flew close to the princess, snuggling down against her neck, pulling the fox-fur over her bare legs. Peeping her head over the top, she joined the princess in observing her troops.

Before long, the drill was over, and the soldiers split into smaller groups to practice their sparring. It was only then that Navi noticed Link and the stranger, leaning against the wall, watching the soldiers practice. The Captain moved to them, gesticulating as he talked. He brought forth three soldiers, and Navi knew from the blue colouring of their tabards that these three were soon to become knights.

“Is Link going to train them?” she asked Zelda, huddling against the royal neck as a chill wind whipped along the rampart.

“Possibly,” Zelda replied. “He usually gives a lesson to young hopefuls. Let us watch, dear friend.”

Link moved away from the stranger, who continued to lounge against the stonework, and drew his sword. The three hopefuls dropped into crouches, raising their own weapons. One by one, they darted forward, seeking to land a blow on their Hero and earn them an immediate place amongst the knights.

So far, as much as Navi knew, none had ever succeeded.

Link seemed to move as though he was made of air, leaning effortlessly away from sword strikes, almost lazily raising his shield to batter away the blows. In less than half a minute, the first soldier was sent reeling away, his helmet ringing like a bell. The next pranced forth, driving forward with an overeager blow. Link caught the sword on his shield, not even bothering to raise his own weapon. He pushed the sword away and grabbed the soldier by the front of his tabard, hooking a boot behind the young hopeful’s knee and throwing him to the ground.

The third did not rush in. He approached cautiously, his sword up, his shield held in front of his face. Link watched him impassively, and feinted with his sword when the young soldier got too close, and the soldier moved away, dancing through the dirt.

“He’s good,” Navi observed.

“Indeed,” Zelda replied. “He is cautious, not reckless, like most.”

Link came forward, his own shield rising. Without warning, he exploded across the ground, his sword low, as if he was to sweep the legs out from under the soldier. The soldier danced away again, avoiding the blow, and Link swung his shield out at the retreating man, seemingly frustrated.

The soldier fell for it. As Link’s chest opened, he darted forward, holding his sword like a lance. Link laughed and brought his shield back around, catching the soldier’s shoulder and knocking him off balance as he slipped to the side. As the soldier stumbled, his back to her Hero, Link put a boot on the back of his knee and pushed, sending the young man sprawling to the ground.

Navi cheered. The whole match had lasted less than two minutes. Her Hero was undefeated!

Zelda leaned forward as the three soldiers rose, and with a word from their Captain, approached Link as one. He rolled his head from side to side and loosened his shoulders.

Like before, the match was over in minutes. Link seemed to dance through the air, his sword a blur, the clanging of metal on metal loud over the shouts of the other training soldiers. Three swift, decisive bangs, and the soldiers stumbled back. One fell over. Link twirled his sword and sheathed it.

“He went easy on them,” Navi said, peering down at the scene as Link helped one of the soldiers from the ground, and then tripped him.

The stranger seemed to laugh, clapping her hands. Navi felt Zelda tense as Link approached her, but he simply waved a hand at the trio, waiting in the empty space.

The stranger produced a spear and moved forward, holding it loosely by her side. She was clad all in black, and her hair was loose about her head.

Above, Zelda grimaced.

“Let us see if Link has been fanciful about her talents,” she murmured. “Perhaps then, I shall see why my Mage has not returned to me.”

Navi shuddered. It had been two weeks now since the party, and the Mage of Shadows had not returned to the castle. Zelda had admitted quietly to the fairy, one late night, what he had offered to do. Yet somehow, the stranger still appeared, day after day, and the most powerful wizard of the court was nowhere to be found. Had Link trained her well enough to escape his clutches, and the Mage, shamed by his defeat, was nursing his failure in sulky silence? Was that why he had forgotten his ring?

Link took the stranger’s place at the wall, leaning against it, his arms folded. The Captain joined him as Thoria prodded the ground in front of her with her foot, as though uncertain. The Captain shouted a command, and the three soldiers leapt forward.

Navi flew out of Zelda’s collar, eager to see the woman beaten with the blunted swords. Perhaps, if she was lucky, her face would be marred, and her spell on Link would be broken.

But fortune was not on her side. The stranger spun the spear before her, creating a shield of whirling wood. As the soldiers tried to edge around, she caught it and jabbed viciously at one of them, catching him in the stomach. She pulled the spear back and swung it again before the man had even stumbled away, bent double and retching. She spun and whapped the spear across the shoulders of another soldier, missing his helmet. He battered away her weapon with his shield, and the stranger swept her foot along the ground, kicking up a cloud of dust.

“That’s dirty,” Navi muttered sourly, as the soldier backed away, raising a hand to his face. The stranger jabbed him in the knee and used the butt of her spear to push him over.

“It is,” Zelda said. “But it worked. The soldiers must learn to fight someone other than themselves. They have all had the same training, after all.”

Navi turned her eyes back to the scene below, watching as the stranger planted her spear in the ground and used it to launch herself at the final soldier. He raised his shield, and she stepped upon it, yanking her spear out of the ground and hammering it down on his helmet. She leapt off in a neat tuck as he stumbled, and whacked the spear across his backside. Her laughter reached the ramparts as the man leapt up, his hands going to his rear.

 _She’s good_ , Navi thought, as the stranger did not take the opportunity to land her final blow, but paced a little, allowing the man time to recover. _Too good_. When he did, he charged her, his shield up, sword at the ready. She jumped to the side, landing in a crouch, one leg stuck out. The soldier tripped, stumbled, and crashed to the ground.

Link whooped as he stranger spun her spear once more, and draped it over her shoulders. The Captain applauded, and moved to the three soldiers, each nursing various bruises. Navi looked to Zelda, finding her lips pursed.

“She’s too good,” Navi said, returning to the warmth of Zelda’s neck. “Clearly magic.”

“Clearly, Link has trained her,” Zelda replied. “No one else fights with such skill.”

“But she fought _dirty_ ,” Navi complained. “Link doesn’t fight dirty!”

“No,” Zelda admitted, straightening. “He fights to win.”

They watched a while longer as Link and the stranger sparred with each other, using only their hands. The stranger was feisty and fast, aiming a flurry of blows at Link. He sidestepped, dodged and battered her hands away with ease. When she raised a leg and aimed a kick, he caught her foot and then walked away, causing the stranger to hop along behind him, swearing loudly enough to reach them.

Zelda moved away as Navi sniggered, returning to the castle, out of the biting wind.

“It was nice to watch him,” Navi said, to fill the silence as they walked.

“His skill is undiminished,” Zelda said, her voice soft. “It is little wonder he was able to defeat the assassin.”

Navi grimaced. “You shouldn’t have wasted your time,” she admonished. “I could have told you a cheap man like that would never get past him. Besides, he could have gotten hurt!”

Zelda shook her head. “No, it was only the stranger that was the target.” She twisted her hands, her head bowed as she walked. “It is unfortunate, but I felt I had to do _something_. Now my head is clearer, I can see that it was not the way. There are other, more suitable ways to ensure Link and the kingdom are protected.”

“Just wait for the Mage to come back,” Navi said. “He can try again.”

Zelda paused at the top of the stairs. Link and the stranger were walking past at the bottom, their arms full of food. Navi frowned. It was not yet time for lunch.

She and the princess watched them until they were out of sight, disappearing along one of the many corridors. Peering up, Navi noticed Zelda had a wistful expression on her face.

“What are you thinking?” Navi asked.

Zelda’s smile was sad. “Things that I should not,” she admitted. “But I find such thoughts creep into my mind more and more frequently.”

“I don’t blame you,” Navi said. Her own secret desire for the Hylian Hero had only grown the longer she spent apart from him. Frequently, her sleeping mind conjured images of him, the most vivid of which were of him sleeping, uncovered, writhing under her tiny blue fingers. She smirked. If she had such a chance again, it would not be the stranger that he dreamed of. He would learn to love her.

“Come,” Zelda said. “I have to write up my meeting notes, and then I must put some paperwork together. I have a meeting with my father in a few days’ time, and I wish to be prepared.”

Navi settled back down on her shoulder, peering at the bottom of the stairs, staring at the door that her Hero had gone through.

“What do you think he’s doing?” Navi asked, watching until she could see the door no more. “With her?”

“Eating, I suspect,” Zelda replied, wryly.

“But you’ve seen them,” Navi said. “They’re still close. You ordered him not to be.”

“I did,” Zelda replied. “I am sure he has reason to remain cordial with her. Until her purpose in Hyrule is known, it is wise of him to not upset her.”

“There’s a big difference in not upsetting and being all cuddly,” Navi griped. Zelda stopped.

“What do you mean?” she asked, her voice sharp. “Are they… have they…?”

Navi twisted the hem of her shift, pouting. To lie to Zelda would mean the stranger would be thrown in prison. But Link would get into trouble, and he would be cross with her, even though she was protecting him. Besides, she couldn’t bring herself to tell falseness to the heir to the throne. She was her friend, and friends didn’t lie to each other.

“No,” she said. “Not that I can prove, anyway.”

Zelda clenched her fists, and drew a deep breath.

“I would not believe Link would behave in such a manner,” she said. “It would bring dishonour to me, to Hyrule, if he… fraternised with a potential enemy of the kingdom.”

“What about that dance?” Navi asked, slyly. “That looked cuddly to me.”

Zelda pursed her lips. “It was… rather… interesting,” she said. “I am told it was created from Lady Thoria’s native dances. I am sure there is nothing more to it than that.”

“You’re lying to yourself,” Navi muttered. “It was too… too…”

“Enough, Navi,” Zelda said, sharply. “I do not wish to conjure demons where there are none. We shall find a way to send her home, and Link shall return to us both.”

“It’s been so long,” Navi whined, as Zelda resumed her walk. “Can’t you just… I don’t know, make something up to imprison her?”

“No,” Zelda’s word was vehement. “My father would discover the falsehood, I am sure, and I already walk upon treacherous ground with him. I will speak with him on the matter soon, and see if there is a better way to eject her from the realm, without resorting to trickery and assassins. It is unbecoming of me.”

She held her head high, nodding to the nobles and servants that she passed, their murmured greetings soft. After a time, she spoke again.

“I am afraid,” she said, quietly. “If Ser Link is at risk of forgetting his duty, which I doubt, it must be stopped. But unless she shows she means us harm, or is untrustworthy, I can do nothing. It is frustrating beyond belief, my friend, but I know it is a frustration you share.”

“Yeah,” Navi muttered. She _knew_ as well as the princess did that something was not right. But if Zelda was unwilling or unable to take the necessary steps to eliminate the threat to Link, she would have to. If only she knew how.


	57. 57 - Zelda

Zelda shuffled the papers stuffed into the crook of her arm, holding them tightly to her body. With her free hand, she rapped her gloved knuckles on the door of her father’s chambers.

“Enter,” the king said, his voice faint.

One of the guards opened the door for Zelda and she edged inside. The room was as hot as ever, the fire burning stubbornly in the grate. The curtains were drawn, throwing the room into darkness. King Rhoam was not in his seat by the fire, and Zelda hurried forwards.

“Father?”

“I am abed, my daughter,” came his muffled reply. Zelda shuddered at how weak he sounded. Steeling herself, she crossed the great reception room, arriving at the open double doors of the king’s bedchamber.

The curtains were drawn in here as well, the only light coming from dimmed lamps near to the enormous bed. King Rhoam sat propped up by several plush, silken pillows, the blankets pulled up to his chest. He wore his quilted robe over his sleeping garments, and his crown sat atop his combed hair. His beard was neatly trimmed, but Zelda’s eyes were drawn to his hands, resting atop the covers. His nails were uncut, and his fingers trembled. A vase of wilting carnations and peonies sat shadowed on the dresser.

“You sent for me, Father,” Zelda said, her voice hushed.

“I did,” Rhoam replied. “I wish for an update on the stranger. Has she shown that she is dangerous?”

Zelda struggled not to pout. “Ser Link is watching her every day. She has no memory of who she is or where she came from, but her memory is returning in fragments. Fragments that, so far, have proved useless to us.”

“You have not answered me, daughter.”

“No, Father. She has given us no true cause for concern. Yet.”

“ _Yet_. Very well. Ser Link is to continue guarding her until she either proves herself to be honourable, or shows signs of the magic foretold.” Rhoam shifted under the covers, grunting. “Only then will we be able to decide if she is safe to be allowed to live in Hyrule, or not.”

“Any signs of magic? Such as, perhaps… a bewitchment?”

“Do you believe she has bewitched somebody?” Rhoam peered at her.

Zelda held her breath. She saw Link and Thoria, now a Lady by her own command, dancing together. The way his hand rested so naturally on her hip, the way they smiled at one another, as if the rest of the world did not exist. Her skin prickled with jealousy, and she set her jaw as frustration boiled through her.

“No, Father,” she said. “She has shown no magic that I can prove.”

“Very well. You must ensure that you have proof before you do anything, daughter. We cannot risk an unknown enemy coming down upon us.” Rhoam shifted again and relaxed back into his pillows. “As she has been with us for several moons now, and has shown no hint of threat, I believe Ser Link can… relax his duties somewhat, if necessary. Though I still expect him to be with her every day, I would allow this woman more freedom in the castle.”

Zelda nodded, eagerly. “I would agree, Father. Ser Link is my Chosen Knight, and should return to my-“

“He will be attending to the woman,” Rhoam said. “But she is to have more freedom.”

Zelda’s smile faded. “Yes, Father.”

Rhoam gave a single, regal nod, declaring the matter closed. “I desire an update on your suitors. Have you chosen one?”

Zelda eased herself into the chair by his bedside, placing the papers carefully on the table.

“I have met with some of the noblemen whom you suggested, Father,” she said. “Unfortunately, I have not yet found any of them to my liking.”

Rhoam closed his eyes a moment. “I am saddened to hear this, my child. Lord Dool would have made a fine asset to this family. He has a mind of steel, strong genes, and great wealth.”

“Lord Dool was improper,” Zelda replied, a little iron creeping into her voice. “I would not have my husband speak to me in the manner in which I have been addressed by Lord Dool, let alone a potential suitor.”

“Lord Dool has many useful assets and a powerful army,” Rhoam replied. “He is not a man to cross.”

“He is boorish and rude. He takes mistresses,” Zelda said, coolly. “And he makes no secret of it. I do not wish to avow myself to an unfaithful man.”

Rhoam sighed. “Lory Symper?”

“Gentlemanly and courteous,” Zelda said. “However…” she hesitated. “I find it difficult to put this delicately, Father. The strongest impression I had from Lord Symper was that he would be… unwilling to undertake the necessities in order to give me an heir. He seems to prefer to sweep the other side of the courtyard.”

Rhoam creased his brow for a moment, and then realisation dawned. “I see.”

“The others…” Zelda shook her head. “Were unsuitable in all manner of ways. Liars, gamblers, fools, and all of them lusted for the throne. None would have made a wise king, or a loving husband.”

Rhoam nodded, and shifted under the covers, levering himself to rise a little higher.

“I thank you for taking the time to meet with those I thought suitable,” he said. “As I know you were not fond of the idea. You have shown great promise, Zelda.”

Zelda allowed herself a smile, a warmth that had nothing to do with the heat of the fire settling in her chest like a candle. “Thank you, Father.”

“But this still leaves Hyrule with no king after I am gone, and no heir,” Rhoam said, gravely. “What do you propose to do about this?”

Zelda leaned over to the bedside table and lifted her stack of papers.

“Though I have yet to meet with some other suitors you suggested, I have researched into other noble houses,” she said. “Those within Hyrule, or from lands bordering us. I have considered alliances with the Zora, the Gorons, and the last surviving members of the Gerudo.”

Rhoam frowned. “Those do not sound at all suitable, my child.”

“I agree,” Zelda said. “And eligible suitors of the lesser noble houses are few and far between. Most are too old, too young, or too already-married.”

“Troublesome wives can be divorced, or otherwise taken care of,” Rhoam murmured. Zelda shuddered at the implication. Rhoam looked to her, his eyes still sharp. “The kingdom comes first, my daughter. Remember that if a task seems daunting to you.”

Zelda nodded, pulling a few sheets of parchment from her sheaf. “I am left with very few options, Father. The men available to me do not have many resources to boast, and little in the way of a standing army beyond a few hedge knights and mercenaries. I fear choosing one of them would not only leave us with little in the way of gain, but would provide great insult to the superior noblemen.”

She passed her father two of the three pieces of parchment. Rhoam took them in trembling fingers, and placed a pair of looking glasses on his broad nose.

“Lord Denwelth, and Lord Glasmoor,” he read. “Assets are indeed minimal, and Glasmoor was only given his title recently. His house is new and powerless.”

Zelda nodded. “I am at a loss, Father,” she said. “Except…”

She hesitated. The last parchment shivered in her hands and she laid it flat on her knees.

“There is a man in Hyrule who could be suitable,” she said. “He is my age, kind, and clever, and strong. His altruistic nature would lead to decisions for the betterment of Hyrule, instead of choices made to serve only the noble houses.”

Rhoam laid down the parchment and focused his attention on her, his eyes glinting over the tops of his looking glasses. Zelda drew breath and continued.

“He has made a name for himself throughout Hyrule over the past decade, and the people love him. He would be a popular choice among the commons, and the nobility have begun to favour him. He is no stranger to hard work, and he has learned the ways of the Royal Court well.”

Rhoam lowered his eyebrows in the slightest frown. “My child, it seems to me as if you are suggesting a man who is not of noble birth.”

Zelda sat straight in her chair. “I am, Father.”

“No,” Rhoam said, the word sharp in the dim light. “The laws of the land are set in stone. One of royal blood must be wed to either another of royal blood, or a member of the nobility, not a _commoner_. It is an honoured tradition that we cannot sweep aside because you do not like the idea of marrying.”

Zelda clasped her hands.

“I have had time to get used to the idea,” she said, calmly. “And I find the idea of a strong marriage to my liking. But I cannot in good conscience marry a man who not make good choices as king, who will not love Hyrule as I do.”

“Compromises can be made,” Rhoam said. “You are the future queen, and you will govern Hyrule once I am gone.”

“Father, everyone knows the king holds the power, regardless of whether he has royal blood or not,” Zelda snapped. Rhoam glared at her, and even Zelda was shocked at her impropriety. She half-raised a hand to her mouth, fearful of her father’s wrath. But it did not come. Rhoam gazed at her, irritation in his eyes, not anger. Irritation that seemed to soften into something like a grudging respect.

“Continue,” he said.

Zelda folded her hands in her lap and took a breath.

“My Chosen Knight has proven himself to be worthy of the title I bestowed upon him,” Zelda said. “And I believe he is worthy of more. He would make a fine king, Father, and a fine husband.”

Rhoam snorted with laughter, which quickly became a hacking, wet cough. He waved his hand as Zelda began to rise from her chair. His coughing subsided, and then he chuckled, weakly.

“The boy was a _farmer_ ,” the king said. “I will not see my daughter wed to a simple goat-herder.”

Zelda bristled. “That _simple goat-herder_ saved Hyrule from the Twilight,” she said. “He houses the Spirit of the Hero and holds the Holy Relic, the Triforce of Courage.” She brandished the final sheet of parchment. “I did my research. Our oldest texts suggest that, when Hylia took on her first mortal form, the Spirit of the Hero came down from the heavens with her and began the settlement that became Hyrule. Wisdom and Courage were united as one, and the country saw a time of great peace.”

Rhoam watched her impassively. When no comment was forthcoming, Zelda continued.

“I am the Goddess Hylia’s descendent through my mother,” she said. “And Link is the Spirit of the Hero. It would be foolish to ignore such an opportunity to repeat the peaceful times of ages past, and unite our bloodlines once again, especially in light of the prophecy.”

Rhoam sighed, deeply.

“Ah, my daughter. You make a fine case for the boy. But I am afraid it is just not possible. He is not of noble blood. In addition to this, he has already shown that he is foolish. Disobeying my direct orders to gallivant with childhood friends is not the type of decision making that would serve the realm.”

“It was a singular error of judgement that he has worked hard to rectify!” Zelda exclaimed. “He houses the Spirit of the Hero! That makes him more noble than any of the fops who grace my court.”

“ _My_ court,” Rhoam said, his voice laced with sudden venom. “Still mine, child. I remain your king, even with my failing health. I _order_ you to find a suitable husband, even if it means you must rid them of a troublesome wife, by the end of this year.”

Zelda stood, her fists clenched.

“And if I refuse?”

“You will not,” Rhoam said, with great finality. “I will not see Hyrule suffer any more under your foolishness. Make the right choice, child, or I shall make it for you.”

“Perhaps I shall marry him anyway,” Zelda spat.

Rhoam stirred under the covers, his fury seemingly lending him strength.

“ _I am your king_ ,” he snarled. “And as _my_ daughter, you require _my_ permission to wed. You do _not_ have it. Not to that _peasant_.”

Zelda whirled on the spot and stormed for the doors. Passing into the reception chamber, she ran to the windows and yanked the curtains open, before sprinting to the exit.

She kicked open the door and marched past the surprised guards, her head held high.

 _He will not make me marry,_ she thought as she went, her fury burning white and hot within her. _He will not choose my husband, for I have already chosen._

Zelda did not go back to her rooms. She continued on along the corridors, ignoring the servants and guards who bowed to her as she passed. She strode to the Library, her skirts swirling about her ankles, and raised her hand, her triforce glowing.

The doors opened before her and she entered, warm light spilling out about her feet. The heady scent of old and new parchment, of bound leather and oiled wood reached her nose, the silence of the Library broken only by her laboured breathing.

Taking a calming breath, Zelda swept along the rows of shelves, seeking out the texts she knew were there. Ancient texts depicting the laws of Hyrule, and those bound by them. Laws that could be changed, and by whom.

Finding the dusty old book in minutes, Zelda headed for the alcoves. She would research here, not her rooms today.

She rounded the shelves to where the Library opened up to soft, low chairs and sofas placed decoratively around small tables. Her eyes were drawn instantly to Link, curled up on one of the sofas with a book in his hand that he was not reading. He was staring at the other end of the sofa, where Lady Thoria sat, reading her own book. One leg was tucked underneath her, and the other was stretched out. Link had his hand on her calf.

But in the same instant that she appeared, Link looked up. He leapt to his feet, his book clattering to the floor. He bowed.

“Your Highness,” he said, his cheeks coloured.

Lady Thoria rose as well, more slowly. Her curtsey was elegant, considering her preference for trousers.

“Your Highness,” she said, softly, her eyes on Zelda’s left shoulder.

Zelda said nothing. Had she imagined it? Imagined her Hero touching the dark stranger? She must have. They stood a respectful distance apart, and nothing about them suggested… or did it? Did anything? Did…

Zelda put a hand to her forehead. She felt warm and dizzy.

“Princess?” Link said. His voice was strangely distant. “Your Highness, are you well?”

Zelda looked up, Link was moving towards her, concern etched on his face.

“I…”

Darkness gathered at the corners of her eyes, and the ground rushed to meet her as Link’s voice echoed in her mind.

“Zelda!”


	58. 58 - Navi

Navi flew after Link as he ran through the corridors of the castle, Thoria right behind him. Princess Zelda lay unconscious in his arms.

Strangely, they met no one as they thundered through the halls, and when they clattered to a stop outside the Doctor’s Quarters, Thoria leapt, and almost seemed to fly ahead of them, bursting through the door and holding it open for Link and Zelda. She let the door go too early, and Navi squealed as the wood slammed shut right before her nose.

She hissed a stream of vile curses. Behind the door, there was a murmur of anxious voices. Link’s baritone hummed like a cello, the doctor’s voice harsh like that of paper rasping over metal. The stranger was silent.

Navi sunk her magic into the door and tried to open it, but it was oddly heavy. She cursed again. She must have exhausted herself from her frantic flight. She hovered in front of the door, glaring at the wood. The stranger must have shut it in her face deliberately.

A quarter of an hour passed before the door opened again, and Link and the stranger came out. Navi peered over their shoulders, seeing the princess lying awake on the examining bed, her eyes following her Hero as he left. The door began to swing closed, and Navi threw a look to Link. His head was bowed, his shoulders slumping. The stranger put her hand on his back and spoke to him, too softly for Navi to hear. She bristled, but behind her, Zelda murmured something.

Navi zipped inside the Doctor’s Quarters just before the door clicked shut, using her magic to keep it open. The door was light enough not to drain her magic too much.

“Navi…” Zelda raised a lethargic hand. “How are you?”

“Never mind me!” Navi squeaked, fluttering to her and landing on her hip. “What about you? Are you alright? What happened? I didn’t see, I was getting something to eat, I-”

“I fainted,” she said.

“How, why?” Navi said. “Did that woman-“

“Her Highness is exhausted and overworked,” the Doctor said, sternly. “Too little sleep and not enough adequate nourishment.” He passed Zelda a small cup of violet potion that smoked. “You are also dehydrated, Highness. You must rest, and take better care of yourself.”

Navi puffed up, outraged that the Doctor could speak to his princess like that. But Zelda accepted the cup, her head down.

“I know,” she said, her voice small. “I have been working all too hard. I suppose it all… just caught up with me.”

“Mm-hmm.” The Doctor placed his hands on his hips. “As your royal physician, I would advise a week of rest. You are to undergo no strenuous activity until you are recovered.”

“A week?” Zelda gasped. “But my work-“

“Is less important than the wellbeing of our future queen,” the doctor finished for her. “You must ensure you remain hydrated and rested. Eat a proper meal more than once every few days.”

Zelda grimaced and sipped her potion. “Three days.”

“Six.”

“Four.”

“Five, and not a day less,” the Doctor said, sternly. He eyed Navi. “I trust I can ensure you will assist her Highness in her convalescence?”

“Of course!” Navi said, drawing herself up. “I’ll be the best nurse to her, just you wait!”

Zelda smiled warmly at her over the rim of her cup. “Thank you, Navi,” she said.

The door opened again and Impa strode in, rubbing the knuckles of one hand.

“Zelda,” she said, rushing to her side. “Are you alright?”

“I am fine,” she said, allowing the Sheikah to embrace her. “I just fainted. The Doctor says I am overworked.”

“Link was with you,” Impa said. “What happened? Why did he not prevent this?”

Zelda looked up at Impa with confusion in her eyes. “Nothing happened. I found him in the library and collapsed. He brought me here. He helped me.”

Impa sighed, though her eyes still glared about the room as if the thing that caused the princess to faint was hiding somewhere within. “Then I… would owe him an apology. I assumed he had neglected his duties once again.”

“Impa,” Zelda said, iron in her tone. “He is not liable for my health. That is my responsibility.”

“And mine,” Impa said. “I will endeavour to ensure you are properly rested, sweet one, even if I must tie you to the bed.”

“Well, with both of us,” Navi said, as Zelda flushed. “She’ll get the best care in all of Hyrule!”

“Good!” the Doctor nodded approvingly. “Then I suggest you get her Highness off to bed. A strong cucco broth and sweet tea will do her good.”

Impa nodded, and helped Zelda off the examining bed. The princess stood unaided, but the Sheikah kept a hand on her elbow as they made their way to the door. Navi fluttered to Zelda’s shoulder and snuggled close to her ear.

“Did that woman do anything?” she whispered.

“No,” Zelda breathed back. “I…” she hesitated.

“What is it?”

“I was imagining things,” Zelda said. “I thought I saw…”

“What?”

“I thought I saw Ser Link and her…” Zelda shook her head. “It’s nothing, Navi. A trick of the light, emphasised by my tired mind. I saw nothing out of the ordinary.”

Navi fluttered off her shoulder. She couldn’t believe it. Her Hero and that stranger had done something, something so terrible that it had caused Zelda to faint! She shuddered as she thought of what it might be.

“I’ll go tell the kitchens to make some cucco broth,” she said.

“Thank you, Navi. Before you go, will you see Link?”

“I suppose.”

“Please tell him, my father has decreed that the st- Lady Thoria is to be allowed a little more freedom in the castle. She can spend some time away from Link if it is absolutely needed, and nothing more.”

Navi nodded and flew away, her mind whirling.

Just what was it that Link was doing? What was the stranger doing? She hadn’t managed to be with them all the time. What dark magics were being cast on her Hero? Making him the stranger’s puppet, her plaything, to do with as she wished? Navi clenched her tiny fists as she barrelled into the kitchen, ignoring the heat, the succulent smells of a hundred different meals being prepared.

She found a cook and delivered the message, along with a dire warning that, if the broth was not superb, they would answer to her. She flew to a steaming plate of beef brisket and helped herself to a double handful.

She flew off again, searching for Link. He was not in the Library. He was not in the training grounds. Navi’s heart began to race again. Where was he? He was in danger, she knew it! Only she could protect him! And now that the stranger had more freedom in the castle, it could not bode well. Yes, it meant that Navi could _finally_ spend some time alone with Link, but the thought of the stranger running about unguarded was daunting.

Still, time alone with Link was more important. She must find him!

But the castle was so huge, it would be impossible to find him if he wasn’t in one of his usual haunts. She squealed in frustration.

He was strong and clever and brave, and a small part of Navi believed that, no matter the bewitchment the stranger had on him, he would break free, with a little help. But now, Zelda had been hurt. The princess and future queen of the realm had been so horrified by the stranger that she had _fainted_. It just wouldn’t do!

Something had to be done. She didn’t know what kind of magic the stranger had on Link, but Navi knew she had to do something, now. A plan began to form in her mind, a lie building itself up and around her concern. It was risky, but, if she was right, it would stop all this nonsense once and for all.

Following a hunch, Navi flew up stairs and along corridors, coming at last to Link’s chambers. Steeling herself, she slid back the panel and flew in.


	59. 59 - Link

“What the _hell_ is that woman’s problem?” Thoria raged.

“Beats me,” Link said. He rubbed his jaw where the Sheikah had punched him in a fit of fury and fear. “Literally.”

“It’s not on,” Thoria spat, striding up and down his room. “She can’t just attack you every time something happens to the princess!”

“She just cares for her,” Link said. “I understand why.”

“Doesn’t make it right,” Thoria said. “She can’t just do that! I thought the Sheikah were supposed to show restraint!”

She slowed her furious pacing and drew a deep breath. “I suppose I can understand her worry. But why she takes it out on you is beyond me.”

“I’m Zelda’s Chosen Knight,” Link said, wearily. “I’m supposed to protect her from any and all harm.”

“You’re not a god,” Thoria argued. “How were you supposed to know she was going to burst in and keel over?”

Link shrugged. His jaw ached something fierce, but he knew the Sheikah _had_ shown restraint. If she had hit him full force, he fully expected he would have joined the princess in the Doctor’s Quarters. He winced, his tongue probing for loose teeth. He was pleased to find none.

Thoria sat beside him on the bed. She gave him a sympathetic smile.

“You’ll want ice on that,” she said, raising her fingers to his face. Her touch was cool, and she rubbed, gently. Link returned her smile.

“That feels better,” he said. And it really did. “Thanks.”

She chuckled. “Next time she raises a hand to you, I’ll set her on fire.”

Link laughed and winced. “You’ll have a job. The Sheikah are the most expert warriors in the kingdom. Even I wouldn’t want to go up against Impa.”

“I have my ways,” Thoria said, with a mischievous glint in her eye. Her fingers were still on his cheek. Link let his eyes close, enjoying her touch.

“I know it’s not dinner yet,” he murmured. “But do you want to go to town and get something? I can take you to Shad’s bookshop. He’s got so much research there, so many books, even things Zelda probably doesn’t have. It’ll get us out of the castle.”

“That sounds good,” Thoria said. She brightened. “He can show me more about that Sky writing!”

“You want to add another language to your budding repertoire?” Link nudged her with his elbow. “Ancient Hylian not enough for you?”

“Never,” she said. “I want to learn it all!”

He held her gaze as she smiled. As he stared, her smile faded, her expression becoming one of curiosity and surprise.

“What is it?” she said.

Link swallowed. He had to tell her. He bit his lip. Damn the consequences. Being her friend was wonderful, but it wasn’t enough. If he didn’t tell her, he would never know, and he would regret it the rest of his life. He had missed so many chances already, he could not let another slip him by.

But the words stuck in his throat. He realised his hand was on her thigh. She didn’t pull away. She didn’t look away. Her hand came to rest on the back of his, her fingers curling around his palm. He had to remind himself to breathe.

He leaned forward, just an inch. He hesitated. She tilted her chin towards him. The voice in his mind sounded, cheering him on as he leant into her, and the panel of his door slid back with a _thunk_.

He lurched away as Navi barged in, his face growing hot. Thoria released his hand, and he whipped it into his lap.

“I want to talk to him,” Navi announced. “ _Alone._ ”

Thoria blinked.

“Hate to break it to you… again, but Link’s my-“

“King Rhoam said you can be by yourself if absolutely needed,” Navi said, her voice dripping with all the scorn she could muster. “And it’s needed right now. I want to talk to him alone.”

Link stared at the fairy, and turned, grinning, to Thoria.

“This is good,” he said. “The king’s showing a little trust in you!”

“Bully for me,” she said.

“Out!” Navi snapped.

Thoria shrugged and got up.

“I’ll be in my rooms,” she said. “Might have a nap. Take your time.”

Link could only nod as she left, his eyes on her hips. They swung perfectly. Many women, upon seeing him, would emphasise the sway of their hips, becoming too obvious, too overt, trying too hard to be seductive. But the way Thoria moved was effortless, flawless, and…

“Link.” Navi hovered in front of him, drawing him unwillingly back into the room.

“Is Zelda okay?” he asked.

“She’s fine,” the fairy said. “But she’s… upset.”

Link blinked. “What’s the matter?”

Navi wore a concerned expression, nibbling her lower lip.

“I shouldn’t be telling you this,” she said. “But I will, because you’re my partner and I care about you.”

“Navi,” Link rose so that he was eye to eye with the fairy. “What is it?”

“She knows,” Navi said, simply. Link frowned.

“Knows about what?”

“You and the stranger,” Navi waved a hand. “She knows everything.”

Link took an involuntary step back. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, _everything_ ,” Navi repeated. “All that’s been going on with you two. She’s _furious_. I had to talk her down from chucking that wom… Thoria, in a cell!”

“T-there’s nothing going on,” Link stuttered. “Nothing!”

Navi shook her head. “Don’t lie to me, Link! I know you! I know you better than you know yourself. Of course there’s something happening! She’s got a spell on you, that’s why you’re mooning after her all the time!”

“I don’t moon,” Link said, stalling. His heart was painful in his chest. Zelda had told him to distance himself from Thoria, and what had he done? Fallen in love with her! Had he been so obvious? Was it so plain for everyone to see?

“She’s really angry,” Navi continued. “You know you’re supposed to be watching her, in case she is evil. You can’t do that while you’re all stupid with staring at her boobs all day.”

“I don’t…” Link flushed. Was _that_ obvious too?

“You need to fix it,” the fairy said. “Stop being so friendly with her. Do your job! You don’t want to get whipped again, do you?”

Mutely, Link shook his head. Navi nodded, and flew to him, standing on his shoulder and stretching her arms over his face.

“I didn’t want to have to say it,” she said, her voice soothing. “But you needed to know. Now, maybe, you can do your job properly and Zelda won’t have to split you two up and throw her in jail, even though that’s probably for the best.”

Link didn’t reply. He felt hollow inside, save for a nervous weight that leapt between his heart and his belly, making him queasy. He sank back onto his mattress. After a moment, Navi let him go.

“I have to go and look after Zelda,” she said. “I promised I would.”

Link nodded, dumbly. He waited until he heard the door panel click before he lowered his head into his hands.

How could he have been so stupid? Everyone in the castle must know. If nothing else, their dance at the party would have confirmed any lingering suspicions. How they must have looked! And any noble passing them in the castle, the gardens, the town would have seen how easy their conversation was, how often his eyes were drawn to her! He was supposed to _guard_ her, in case Zelda’s prophecy was true! Now, Thoria was at risk because he couldn’t even do that! Zelda would imprison her for the safety of the kingdom, and wouldn’t even get to see her.

He groaned. It was over before it had even begun. He could not risk her being arrested for no good reason. How could he tell Thoria now? He laughed bitterly.

“Hey, Thoria, just wanted to tell you I’m in love with you, but we can’t do anything about it, because the princess will split us up, whip me, and probably throw you in prison. Thought you ought to know!” He grimaced.

A wave of exhaustion hit him like a hammer. He couldn’t face going to see her. He needed to think. How would he cope now? He had hidden from the truth for so long. He couldn’t just pack his feelings away again, now that he had finally accepted the way he felt about her.

He flopped back to the mattress, his eyes dragging shut. She would be alright waiting for him for an hour or so. A little nap would help set his head straight.

Just a little rest…

He found himself walking through a forest with Thoria. The sunlight above was strong, but it was shaded under the trees. It shone through the leaves, throwing dappled spots of light on the earthen path, over their bodies. The air was filled with the scent of pine, of a crisp, autumn morning. The air was warm.

But something was wrong. He could feel the thundering of a battle behind him, coming ever closer. The clanking of metal was loud on the air, heard over the relentless beat of a drum, the stench of blood thick and cloying. The sky turned red, and the forest began to burn. Link snatched Thoria’s hand and ran, his breath loud in his ears, their footsteps thundering on stone. They were at the bridge of Eldin, and monsters swarmed. Thoria was pulled from him, and she fell, helpless, to the ground as Moblins and bulblins attacked her, kicking her and hitting her with sticks. She cried out, her eyes seeking his.

Link roared, drawing his sword, but his movements were slow, sluggish, as if he was fighting through a quagmire. With every step he took, he seemed to slide further away. Desperately, he tried to get to her, but the sea of monsters forced him back. He screamed as he saw Thoria pushed over the edge, clinging onto the stone by her fingertips. Above, Zelda watched, and nodded approvingly.

Link fought harder, his blade a leaden weight in his hand. Each step towards Thoria dragged. Below him, his shadow writhed on the stone and stole his sword, the black shape skittering away and flowing over the side of the bridge. Helpless, Link could only watch as Thoria was assaulted, the monsters throwing things at her, trying to make her fall.

With a cry, Link leapt forward. He skidded along the stone and grasped her wrist as she fell. Her eyes were wide and pleading. He could feel Zelda behind him, could see her shadow falling over them both.

“Please, Princess!” he cried. “Help me!”

Thoria’s hand was sliding out of his grasp. Without a sound, she began to fall, her eyes locked on his, her mouth open in shock, becoming a tiny speck as she was swallowed by the blackness of the chasm below. All the time she fell, she reached for him. Link screamed her name, but she was gone. Above him, Zelda’s shadow seemed to morph, become something else. A cold, cruel chuckle sounded. Link found himself sliding over the edge of the bridge, falling into nothing, the wind in his hair as the darkness rushed up to meet him.

He landed hard on the cold stone floor of the forgotten temple. He barely had time to register his surroundings before he was forced forward, a dark presence at his back. Link began to babble incoherent protestations, pleading with the darkness not to have him endure it again. The alter rose up before him, the stone pale in the blackness. Link screamed as he was thrown against it, screamed as something tangled around him, screamed as he fell to the floor with a thud.

He thrashed, his bedroom coming into focus as he fought off the vestiges of his nightmare, kicking the blankets away. He clapped his hands to his mouth, howling into his palms. He squeezed his eyes shut until he could stop, and he huddled on the floor, trembling.

He curled more tightly around himself, covering his head with his hands. It had felt so _real_ , more real than his dreams had been for a month. He drew several deep, shaky breaths. He tried to stand, but found his quivering legs would not support his weight. He had to crawl to his bed to lift himself up.

He clenched his jaw and clutched his head, air hissing between his teeth. It was dark outside, and he didn’t know how long he had slept, but the timepiece on the wall indicated that the hour was past midnight. He groaned. Thoria had been left alone all this time. He felt a creeping vine of guilt wind itself over his shoulders. She must have been terribly bored.

He eyed his bed. The sheets were rumpled, the covers hanging over the side and trailing on the floor. He could not sleep. Not now.

He edged towards the balcony, eyes fixed on his feet. If he looked to the shadowed corners of his room, there was no telling what would happen. A childlike part of him huddled in his mind, chanting the mantra he had told himself as a boy, when the shapes of the trees against the night sky morphed into terrifying monsters, scratching at his windows, reaching to get him, all alone in his little treehouse, hiding under the covers.

_If I can’t see you, you can’t see me. You can’t get me if you can’t see me._

He knew it was foolish. But it helped.

Opening the balcony doors let in the night air, teetering between warm and cool. The soft breeze made the trees hush, and carried distant scents of nightflowers and torchsmoke. He shivered, and picked up his lute. He retrieved a cloth and stuffed it into the bowl, to dampen the sound. Sitting cross legged on the marble, he leaned against the wall and began to play, waiting for the dawn.


	60. 60 - Link

His knuckles bruised wood and he leaned on the wall, resting his head on his arm. His mind was a maelstrom, full of his history. All the fighting, the slaughter, the pain he had endured. His fears, old and new, roiled beneath the surface, warring for his attention. He fought off a shiver.

He heard movement behind the door, and it swung inward, revealing Thoria. Her pleasant smile was swept away in an instant as her eyes met his.

“What the shit happened to you?” she gasped, reaching for him.

“I’m fine.”

“For fuck’s sake,” she sighed explosively. “Have you seen yourself?” She grabbed his belt and pulled him inside. He barely registered his surroundings, only dimly noting the books spilling off the shelves, the plants and oddments crowded on every available surface. Thoria stood him in front of her mirror and pointed, glaring.

Link balked. His face was white, and his eyes were shadowed, haunted and red rimmed.

“What happened?” she asked, again.

Link ducked his head. “It’s not important.”

“It is to me!” she stood in front of him, hands on her hips. “Dude. Seriously.”

Link sighed. “I just had a nightmare, okay?”

Her gaze softened. “Ah.”

“I get them a lot,” he said. “It’s nothing to worry about.”

“I see.” She stepped forward and pulled him into a tight hug. Link resisted only a moment, before relaxing into her arms. He allowed himself the comfort for the time it took for his heart to beat four times, and he stepped back.

“I’m sorry,” he said, quietly. “But we… I… can’t…”

“Shush,” she said. “You didn’t sleep at all, did you?”

Link shook his head.

“Then you need to,” she replied. “Back to bed. Now.”

Link began to protest, but the words died on his lips as Thoria marched him back to his own chambers, pulling off his hat and pushing him down on the mattress. Through his exhausted haze, his heart leapt. But she did not come down with him.

“Sleep,” she ordered, her voice soft and carrying. Link obediently curled up, watching her as she made her way back to the door.

“I’ll be back by the afternoon,” she said. “I mean it. Sleep.”

The instant the door closed, Link was up, leaping away from the bed as though it was made of snakes. He couldn’t sleep. Not now. Not without his potion. Not without Thoria, though even her presence had done nothing to ease the turmoil in his mind. Not now that Zelda knew.

He had no choice. He had to move on and away. He could not put Thoria at risk. But how could he? Should he just run? Should he hide? How would he? If he could not run from the demons in his own head, how on earth did he expect to escape the knights of Hyrule once his absence was discovered?

He sank into his chair and laid his head on his dresser.

What was he going to do?

XXXXXXX

Thoria, true to her word, appeared at midday. She raised an eyebrow when she found him sitting against the wall, lute in hand, but she said nothing.

She took his hand and drew him to his feet. “Come with me. I want to show you something.”

Link bit his lip. Her touch was intoxicating, but it was too dangerous. “Thoria, I can’t-“

“Just trust me.”

Thoria led him through the castle, and they met no other person along the way, though this didn’t stop Link looking over his shoulder every other minute. She led them out into the grounds and into the gardens, passing the Glade of Hylia, and into the small, wooded part. It was a poor imitation of a forest, barely fifteen trees grouped together. But Thoria pulled him through, and at the back, near the wall, was the biggest tree of them all, old and gnarled and covered in vines and knots.

“In here,” Thoria pushed aside a few vines and wriggled into a gap between the roots. Link tried to ignore the shape of her as she crawled forwards on her hands and knees. He bent down and followed, coming into a small, naturally enclosed space.

The roots of the oak were gnarled and bent, raised high enough to form a roof of sorts. The vines and foliage made walls, and the earthen floor had been cleared of debris, and laid with a small, woven blanket.

Bottles had been filled with fireflies and tied to the roots overhead, casting a soft, gentle light. Thoria got up on her knees and shuffle-walked to the back, where a few pillows had been placed against the lower roots. She reached behind them and produced a bottle of dark, red wine, and two goblets. She was grinning like a child, the light of the fireflies dancing in her eyes.

“Like it?” she asked. “I remember you said you felt more at home in the forest, and well… this is the closest I could find.”

Touched, Link smiled. “It’s fantastic,” he said. And he meant it. It was small and cosy, the natural roof and walls providing a comforting feel. The earth was soft and dry, the light of the fireflies plenty to see by, whilst still giving the impression of stars.

“How did you do it?”

Thoria smiled as she settled on the blanket.

“Don’t be mad,” she said. “I didn’t stay in my room today. I took advantage of my new “freedom” and… I wanted to do something nice for you.”

Link shook his head. “I’m not mad.”

Link shuffled closer to Thoria as she poured a goblet of wine for him. Together they lay back on the pillows, wrapped in the arms of the tree roots. The wine was full and sweet, soothing on his throat.

Thoria lounged gracefully, one hand behind her head, the other occasionally rising to bring the goblet to her lips. She was quiet, and Link felt no need to speak. He sat in silence, until his goblet was empty. He set it to one side and turned to look at Thoria, her eyes closed in the low light.

“I could stay here forever,” she said, softly. “It’s warm enough, quiet, and no one knows about it, except us.”

“It’s great,” Link said. “I feel safe in here.”

As he said the words, his voice cracked. The turmoil in his mind came to the fore and he flinched. The battles, the fighting, his shadow, the alter…

“Link?” Thoria propped herself up on an elbow.

Link shook his head and rolled to his knees.

“I need to go,” he said. He could feel a scream building in his chest. He had to get out, get away, and get somewhere where no one could see, or hear, or…

“Link!” Thoria took his arm. “Wait.”

Link clenched his teeth. “It’s not you,” he forced out. “I just… I can’t…”

“It’s okay,” Thoria said. “Come here.”

Link allowed himself to be pulled back. He focused on his breathing, trying to supress the scream within. The blood, the wounds, the screaming, the fire, the alter…

He put his head in his hands and drew a shaky breath. Thoria was on her knees next to him. Her arm slid around his shoulders and she pulled him closer.

“It’s okay,” she said again. “It’s okay.”

Link drew breath again, but it caught in his throat. On the exhale, it sounded like a sob. The small, pathetic sound surprised him, and the floodgates opened. He pitched forwards with a small cry, his eyes welling and spilling over. He covered his face, ashamed, trying to pull the sobs back within himself, but he couldn’t.

And Thoria was there. She knelt beside him, one hand squeezing his shoulder, the other making small circles on his back. Her head rested at his neck, and she never moved, murmuring comforting sounds into his ear.

Hours seemed to pass until Link was able to sit up properly. His eyes were sore, his jaw aching from where he had clenched his teeth for so long. He leaned back and Thoria shifted, her arms encircling him more closely. She drew them both down to the pillows, turning his head into her. She stroked his hair as he slid an arm around her waist and finally relaxed.

“I won’t ask,” she said, quietly, her lips at his ear. “But if you want to talk, if you want to tell me, then I’ll listen. But I won’t make you if you don’t want to.”

Link said nothing, concentrating on how his cheek was resting on her collarbone, his chin on her breast. Oddly, he felt nothing like he expected, only the small, warm, comfort of being in a hidden place, with a beautiful woman who was offering to… listen. But what would she say? What would she _think_ if he told her?

He shifted on the cushions, levelling himself so that he was lying down. Thoria came with him, her arms still around him. They curled up as the soft light of the fireflies seemed to brighten, as the sun outside sank into dusk.

“I’ve fought a lot of battles,” Link said, quietly. “I’ve killed a lot of creatures. And people. And all of them have tried to kill me. In… in the past… some of them succeeded. I’ve never lived past fifty.”

Thoria said nothing, but she turned her head to show she was listening.

“I…” Link faltered. What to say? How to say it? “It’s hard. It’s hard knowing that somewhere, a child doesn’t have a father because of me. That somewhere, a family has no means to feed themselves properly, because of me. Bloodlines have ended because of me. Other people have died because I couldn’t protect them. Soldiers, citizens, villagers… children. I couldn’t save everybody.”

His breath was hard against his teeth, his eyes hot and dry. “It’s hard to know that, if I hadn’t done everything I did, exactly the way I had, in this life I, and countless others would be dead now. Hyrule would be in ruins if I hadn’t done what I have. And that’s… terrifying.”

He clenched his teeth together, and forced the words out.

“I hold the Triforce of Courage. It’s attached to the Spirt of the Hero. A legend. A man of unending power and bravery. It should never have come to me. It chose wrong.” His breath caught, but the moment passed, and he spat his confession into the twilight.

“I am so afraid. All the time.”

He paused, his eyes screwed shut, waiting for her to recoil from him, to laugh, to try to pass his comments off as the ramblings of an insane man, or tell him he was wrong, that what he felt wasn’t all that bad, in the grand scheme of things. But Thoria just ran her fingers through his hair. The soft touch was comforting, and Link felt himself relax further.

“I’ve lost count of the fights I’ve had,” he said. “I’ve lost count of the wounds I’ve taken, and given out. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve had to just smile at all the people who call me ‘Hero’, when none of them know. None of them know what it’s like. And when I can’t live up to their expectations, they scoff and scorn and pass me off as a pretender.”

He grimaced. “So many women seek me out. They think it’s some romantic thing, to be a ‘Hero’. That it’s all slaying dragons and carrying off princesses on a white horse. They want that stupid life for themselves, some dumb idiot who will risk his life for them and them alone, and the country be damned. They want to be special enough the catch the interest of someone everyone admires, to be unique enough to be interesting. But they’re all the same.”

Thoria shifted beside him, and his cheek slid down her chest. His voice muffled slightly as he spoke into her breasts, but he didn’t care.

“None of them know. They don’t want me, they want an idea of me, to serve their own vapid ideals. Because if they knew how broken I was, not one of them would want me for who I am.”

“If I may interject,” Thoria said quietly. “We’re not all like that.”

“No,” Link agreed, his face pillowed. His eyes were heavy, and her chest was warm. “I’ve met one woman who seems to have her own mind.” He raised his head, somewhat reluctantly. “She only had to come from an unknown land.”

Thoria gave him her soft, half-smile. “I’m glad I did,” she said, and lowered her lips to his.

XXXXXXX

The sun had fully set, and one by one, the fireflies were winking out as they went to sleep. Link lay beside Thoria, who had drifted off to sleep. The blanket covered them, though they were both half-clothed.

Link sighed. He had been stunned when her lips had touched his, astonished that the moment he had longed for was finally here. His stupor had turned to joy, and then to hunger, and he had pulled her close, his hands in her hair, hers on his face.

Thoria had tugged at his tunic and it had come willingly over his head. He had pulled her close again, her lips soft, yet insistent against his own. He had fumbled with her shirt, and she had to help him. He had lain her down on the earthen floor, her legs to either side of him, when the alter flashed, unbidden, into his mind.

He had jerked, pulled away. She had looked at him, questioningly. He clenched his jaw.

“I’m sorry,” he had said. “I can’t.”

She understood. She pulled him back down and cradled his head against her, stroking his hair as he berated himself, silently.

They had slept, or rather, Link had pretended to sleep, unwilling to close his eyes and allow the prowling horrors within to reveal themselves to Thoria. Unwilling to take his eyes of her face for any longer than it took to blink.

He had told her more than anyone else, more than he had told Ilia, Telma, or even Navi. And she hadn’t shied from him. She had stayed. But he had only scratched the surface. He wanted to tell her more. Talking had been cathartic, something about it had released some tension deep within him. But how much could he say before she left him for the broken man that he was?

He could describe each battle, every fight he had endured. He could talk in detail about the monsters he had slain, the temples he had conquered. The enemies he had faced. All but one.

The alter forced itself back into his mind. He felt the cold stone under his forearms, and he flinched, his heart launching itself against his ribs.

Next to him, Thoria stirred. She flung an arm across his chest, and at her touch, his heart slowed. He rolled over so that he faced her, tracing the curve of her jaw with his eyes. Her eyes roved under their lids, watching some secret dream play out. Link smiled. He wanted to stay here, where it was quiet and secluded. He was finally with her. If he could hold the whole Triforce in his hands, he knew what his wish would be. To freeze the moment, to keep them safe and hidden, here forever.

But he couldn’t.

He slid out from the blanket, finding his tunic and struggling into it.

“Going?” Thoria said. Link poked his head through the tunic to find her staring at him through half-lidded eyes. The blanket had slid off her shoulder, revealing one large, white breast. Link swallowed.

“I have to,” he said. “Zelda’s going to want a report. I need to make sure she doesn’t know about us. Anything she suspects… I need to clear that away.”

“That’s fair,” Thoria said, yawning. “I can’t imagine she’d be impressed that we’re… well. Me being a stranger and all. You guarding me.” She winked, and Link grinned at her. She stretched. “We should get back. It’s not the best plan to sleep under a tree, really.”

“Never did me any harm,” Link said. He leaned forward and kissed her, feeling like he should, and wished he hadn’t. The simple kiss awoke him again with a suddenness that was shocking. Dismayed, he tried to hide it. He would only disappoint her again. Thoria smiled, knowingly.

“No, but we should go.” She rose and found her shirt, wriggling into it expertly.

Link bit his lip. He opened his mouth, his lips beginning to form the words _I love you_. But he stopped himself. It would be far too soon to admit it to her now. Why would he say that, and spoil it all by gabbling out the depth of his feelings for her? For all he knew, she had kissed him out of pity.

But she leaned forward and kissed him, softly. Her half-smile spoke of a depth of affection he had not known in centuries. Perhaps ever. Still, he did not say it. It was too soon. He could not risk driving her away now.

She winked at him, before crawling out of the small entrance. Link followed close behind, paying attention this time.


	61. 61 - Zelda

The princess stood at her window, gazing out over the quiet, dark lands. Below, a few lamps glinted, casting golden circles of light through her gardens. Her eyes were heavy, but she itched to sit at her desk, to pour through her research, to read over her documents, to slough through the reports of the last council meeting. To compile her knowledge on the stranger.

But she couldn’t. Impa had cleared away all her paperwork, all her scrolls, all her research, and hidden it away somewhere. Watching her with a stern eye, Impa had deliberately placed a silver key on a chain and hung it around her neck, tucking it beneath her collar.

All that was left to her now were fictitious books about romance and her view. Far from relaxing her, the lack of work was maddening. How the noble ladies of Hyrule were content to sit and gossip and knit was beyond her. She glared at the glass. If she had the Triforce of Power, not this weak, feeble Triforce of Wisdom, no one would dare take her precious research from her!

A soft knock came at her door, and she turned, her forehead creasing. Impa rose from her seat by the fireplace and strode to the door, glaring. She opened it to reveal Link, his head bowed, his hands behind his back.

“What are you doing here?” Impa demanded. Link raised his eyebrows.

“It’s… time to give my report?” he said, peering past Impa. His eyes met Zelda’s for a moment before he dropped his gaze.

“Her Highness is resting,” Impa said. “You may provide me with your report, and-“

“Let him in,” Zelda said, coming forward. She was acutely aware that her dress was informal, a simple, cotton gown beneath a satin robe. She offered a quick prayer of gratitude that at least she still wore her tiara and shoes.

Impa watched the Hero from under her brows for a long moment, before standing aside. Link came in, bowing to them both.

“I hope you’re feeling better?” he said, speaking to her shoulder. Zelda smiled.

“I am much better, thank you. I must apologise for my lack of decorum, Link, I do not know what came over me.”

Link gave her a gentle smile. “The Doctor spoke truly, Highness. You work incredibly hard to protect the kingdom. Your blood is divine, but you are mortal, and must rest like all of us.”

Impa grunted and strode back to her usual seat, turning the chair so that she could watch the pair. Zelda moved to her sofas, indicating Link should follow. She watched him carefully as he approached and sat opposite her. Though his eyes were bagged with exhaustion, there was something different about them. They seemed to almost sparkle, and he held himself differently. He was looser, less rigid, as though a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. But as she stared, some of the old tension seemed to come back, and he slipped into his customary, straight-backed pose.

“I… have my report,” he said, glancing at the Sheikah across the room. Zelda followed his gaze, and waved her hand.

“Do not concern yourself with it for now,” she said. “Impa is right, I am resting, and should not be working. However, I find convalescence to be rather dull without my work. I crave conversation.”

Link nodded. “I can understand that.”

Silence grew between them. Zelda folded her hands in her lap, suddenly at a loss for words. Link stared at the table, chewing his lip. He had not shaved, and his jaw was dark with stubble. Briefly, she wondered what we would look like with a full beard, and found the idea to be unappealing. He looked so much better with a clean-shaven, youthful face. But that did not change the fact that he was truly, desperately handsome.

“So…” Link began, more than a little awkwardly. “How… are you?”

She smiled. “Bored witless,” she replied. “How are you?”

“I’m good.”

“Good.”

Impa tutted in the background. Zelda shot her a glance, but the Sheikah was busy pretending to read a book.

“What… research have you been doing?” Link asked. “Before, I mean.”

Zelda brightened.

“I have been looking into ancient artefacts,” she said, half rising from her seat with the intention of bringing a book for him to look at, before remembering Impa had locked them all away. She sat back down with the slightest pout. “I have stumbled across some rather interesting items, though I have not yet been able to discover the locations of any.”

Link nodded. Something flickered behind his eyes, but it was gone just as soon as it had appeared. He seemed to be relaxing again.

“One piece I rather like the look of is a magical orb,” she continued, watching him. “It promises to bolster the strength of one’s army, should one be in possession of it.”

“That’s useful,” Link said. He seemed a little distracted, Zelda noticed. Every so often, the corners of his mouth would pull towards a smile. She smiled herself. Whatever it was that put him in a good mood, she was glad. Her Hero had been all too sombre these last few years.

“I quite agree,” Zelda said. “There is another, named _the Eye of the Serpent_ , said to be secreted away in a hidden castle, but I do not know where. This one supposedly gives a person the power of second sight, or prediction.”

Link nodded again. “But you already have second sight, Highness.”

Zelda’s smile tightened. “To a degree, yes. But it never hurts to have more power.”

His head bobbed, his eyes unfocused.

“You seem distracted, Link,” Zelda said, clasping her hands. His eyes flickered, and he cleared his throat.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I do not mean to off-“

“I am not offended,” Zelda said, smiling. “Tell me. You seem happier. This is good. Would you share with me what it is that has pleased you so?”

Link didn’t look up, and laced his fingers together.

“I… received word from Ordon,” he said. “My childhood friend has… had a baby.”

“Oh, what wonderful news!” Zelda clapped her hands together. “You must be so pleased.”

“Yeah.” Link said, and looked up at last, his gaze directed at her shoulder. “Absolutely.”

“I presume you wish to meet the child?” she said.

“I… have my duties here,” Link said.

“You do,” Zelda replied. “However, as I am sure Navi has told you, Lady Thoria can… spend some time alone, now, by my father’s word. If you need to take a few days to travel to Ordon, I will permit it, and Lady Thoria will be watched by a squadron of guards.”

To her surprise, Link shook his head.

“I don’t want to… intrude, on the new family,” he said. “Perhaps later.”

“Of course,” Zelda said. “Simply let me know when you wish to go and I will arrange it.” She couldn’t help but smile. A new baby in Hyrule was always a wonderful thing. It signified the growth of her population, the continuance of her people. She couldn’t help but imagine what her own baby would one day look like. Would she birth a little girl, another Princess Zelda? Or perhaps a little boy, whom she would name for her Hero, in his honour. She smirked. If all went as well as she hoped with her research, her son would share his father’s name.

New life, by her people or by her own self, meant that Hyrule would prosper, despite everything. Even the prophecy.

Zelda felt her smile slip as she thought of it again. She thought of Link and Lady Thoria, laughing by the lake. Sitting in the library. Dancing. Together. She pursed her lips.

“What of the… matter we discussed on our way back from the Eldin Province?” she asked, quietly. Link raised his head and met her eyes, surprising her.

“I am guarding Lady Thoria by your father’s command,” he said, his voice flat. “Nothing more. We are friendly, but this is all.”

Zelda held her expression as neutrally as she could. “I believe I asked you to distance yourself?”

“And I did,” Link replied. He lowered his gaze. “It did not go well. Her memories ceased returning, and I discovered nothing new about her. I felt it best to maintain a… friendly… distance.”

Zelda nodded. “Very well. If your distance means we learn nothing new about her, then it is pointless. If you have gained her confidence, she will be more honest with you. You may continue.”

She didn’t like the thought at all. But if it meant that she would gain more knowledge over the stranger, and Link adhered to his duties, it was the best she could hope for. She trusted him. He was the Hero of Twilight. He would serve the realm.

He shifted in his seat. “Princess, unless you require me for anything else…?”

“You have my leave,” Zelda said, graciously. She watched him as he rose, his muscle obvious under his tunic. She fought off a thrill as she remembered him pulling it over his head in the courtyard, all those months ago. Yes, the memory was tainted by pain, but she could not forget how smooth his skin was in the torchlight, despite his scars, each muscle defined, as though sculpted by divine hands. Just what would it _feel_ like?

Link bowed to her and nodded in Impa’s direction, stepping back the customary three paces before he turned and left.

“I trust you feel better?” Impa asked, tossing her book to one side.

“I do,” Zelda replied, her eyes on the door. What she wouldn’t give for her Hero to come back through, bare-chested once more.

Impa sat down, taking Link’s vacated seat.

“You mentioned your research,” she said. Zelda rolled her eyes.

“Not now, Impa,” she said. “I am out of my mind with-“

“No, I am not about to chastise you,” her aide said. The corners of her eyes crinkled. “I was going to mention the artefact you spoke of. The one that promises a more powerful army.”

“Yes?” Zelda sat a little straighter. “It is my hope that, if I discover where it is hidden, it can be retrieved and we will be better protected.”

“Against monsters, or Lord Dool?” Impa asked.

“They are one and the same to me,” Zelda sniffed, folding her arms. “He would not dare make his thinly veiled threats if we had such a power.”

Impa nodded.

“My concern is for you, sweet one,” she said. “You must rest.”

“I am sensing a ‘but,’” Zelda said.

“But,” Impa agreed. “The kingdom would benefit greatly from this artefact.” She drew out the silver key from under her collar.

“If you agree to keep your research to daylight hours only, and you do not undertake any royal duties for the next three days, I will give you your books back.”

Zelda raised her eyebrows, trying and failing to look stern. “Anyone would think you are the princess, and I your daughter,” she said.

Impa’s eyes warmed.

“You know I care for you more deeply than any other,” she said, rising. As she crossed the room, she stopped and lowered her collar, kissing Zelda softly on the cheek.

Zelda wriggled with anticipation as she came back, her arms laden with heavy tomes. As she took the first book from the pile, her gloveless fingers tracing the crackling pages, she felt the old excitement stir. Something wonderful waited within these pages. A way to avoid war, and a way to change the draconian laws of the realm. She smiled. Whatever she found first would not matter, for both would serve her kingdom well.


	62. 62 - Link

“Faster!” Link panted. “ _Harder_!”

Thoria spun her spear, the wood clattering against his shield. As he moved to intercept her jab, she jinked to the side, her foot flicking out to catch his leg. He dodged and pressed forward, bringing his sword down in a swing that would crush the helmets of most enemies. Thoria caught her spear and held it over her head. The sword split the wood in two, and Thoria leapt back, flinging one half at the advancing Hylian. He swung again, and she used the half-spear to deflect his blow, before dancing away.

She slid from left to right, her frown deepening as she sought an opening and found none. Link held back. He would have slain any other enemy in moments, but he was curious to see what Thoria would do. He followed as she sprinted in a circle, keeping his shield up.

“Fucking hell!” she exploded. “What do I do?”

“There’s not much you can do,” Link said, grinning. He began to advance again, shepherding her towards the wall of the training grounds. “Unarmed, tiring, using all your energy to try and find a weak spot. You’re toast.”

“Am not,” she said. She glanced behind her as the wall loomed, and Link leapt forward. Thoria hissed and skittered to the side, her back pressed against the stone. Link winked and lowered his shield, levelling his sword at her.

“I believe the match is mine,” he said.

“No way,” Thoria shook her head. “You’ve not delivered a killing blow.”

“Maybe I’m feeling merciful.”

“Mercy is for the weak,” she said, and leapt, using the wall as leverage. She ran up it like a cat and flipped over his head, delivering a kick to his arse that sent him crashing against the wall. She was on him before he could recover, knocking his sword to the ground and pressing him against the stone, her arm against his throat.

 _“Is e m ’ainm Thoria,”_ she purred. _“Cuir eagal orm_.”

He laughed. “What about your killing blow?” She gave him a sultry smile and leaned in, kissing him deeply. He allowed his shield to drop and sunk into it, holding her close. Her lips were perfect, full and soft, and he could feel her breath against his cheek, feel her chest pressed against his own, her hands at his back. She pulled away too soon, leaving him breathless.

“Does that count?”

“I’ll allow it,” he said. She kissed him again, lightly, and moved away. She nodded at his sword as he retrieved it.

“More, or are we done?”

“Done for now.” Link watched her as they gathered their weapons and returned her bow to the store. Inside, she kissed him again. He fell into it with abandon, his hands in her hair, on her back, her shoulders, her neck, her breast. Her hands were on his hips, on his back, under his tunic, but when they slid subtly forward and down, Link broke the kiss and moved away, panting. He gave her a weak grin and opened the door for her.

She gave him a soft smile and slid out into the fresh autumn air. Ahead of him, he watched her, still hardly daring to believe his luck. She was finally his! There had been no need for words, no need for stumbling courtship. No fumbling over poorly-written poetry or stuttering over long, heartfelt declarations of attraction.

He had thought it a dream, when he woke the morning after she first kissed him. But when he arrived at her rooms and she had pulled him inside, her hands in his hair, he felt as though he could float. It was real. _She_ was real. Everything about her was perfect. He had wondered, briefly, in his walk to her rooms, if some of her lustre would have dimmed. Now she was his, would he be so fixated on her, the chase finally at an end?

But when she had appeared, she seemed even more radiant than before, and each day saw her beauty grow. Each day, he found something new to marvel over. The way a cluster of freckles on her cheek seemed to form a star. The way her ears were ever so slightly lopsided, so when she used magnifying spectacles to look at tiny script on a scroll, they sat crooked on her nose. The way just one of her cheeks dimpled when she smiled. She had a writing bump on the middle finger of her right hand. She had a scar above her eyebrow. She smoothed her hair when she was nervous, and her mouth tempted toward a smile just before she delivered the punchline of a joke.

He grinned as they entered the castle, heading for the kitchens, moving through the narrow servant’s corridors, littered with shelves full of oddments. Her figure was an almost perfect hourglass. Her back was regally straight. Her stride was confident and swift. Her lips were full and warm, and he fought not to take her to him again.

It wasn’t to say that everything was perfect. It had been a week, and though at each opportunity they had, he or Thoria would barrel the other into some secluded corner of the castle and embrace, Link was always watching out for others. Nosy nobles, curious commoners, sneaky servants. If anyone discovered them, he couldn’t begin to imagine the trouble and danger he and Thoria would respectively be in.

Link reached out, almost without thinking, and swiped a pot off the shelf. The pot smashed on the floor with a sharp crack. Thoria jumped and turned, staring at him.

“The hell was that?”

“Sorry,” Link said, bending to gather the shattered clay. “I have no idea why I do that. It’s like a compulsion. I really have to watch myself.”

Thoria burst out laughing.

“Of all the things to get fixated over,” she giggled, wiping her eyes. Link gave a rueful smile, his cheeks burning.

“I can’t explain it,” he said. “I see it, I smash it. I’ve been banned from more shops than I care to mention.”

“Link, the Pot Bandit,” Thoria said, still laughing. She had a spot of mud on her cheek. Depositing the clay on the shelf, he brushed it from her face, gazing into her eyes. She raised her hand and pressed his palm to her cheek, smiling her soft, half smile.

Navi did not help matters. Every moment of the day, it seemed, she had once again taken to sulking at his earlobe, her glowering presence insistent and watchful. Under her eye, Link had to act as though nothing was amiss, as though Thoria was nothing more than his charge, a stranger to guard in these uncertain times. Thoria was a natural actress, and sometimes Link had to reassure himself that she was still his, and that her cool attitude was for Navi’s benefit. The few times they managed to slip the fairy were spent in each other’s arms, close together, no need for words, as though they were both making up for the months they had lost dancing around each other.

“I’d waited ages for the right moment,” Thoria had admitted to him the third day, as they hid behind a door. “I was so damn nervous! I didn’t know if you were just being nice to me because you’d been told to be, or if there really was something there.” She had touched his face. “Part of me wanted to just leave it as it was. Us, being friends. Friends was safe. But those times you sat close to me, held my hand, and didn’t push me away if I hugged you a bit too long…”

Link had leaned in and kissed her again. He smiled and shook his head. “It’s like you were living my life. I felt the same! You’re so different from everyone else. I couldn’t let myself believe I’d ever be this lucky.”

She had touched her nose to his. “I used to think my coming here was a disaster. Away from my home, my friends, my work… whatever it was. But now… I couldn’t even contemplate being more fortunate. If there is a God in my world, He has been exceptionally kind to me.”

Then Navi had arrived and they had disentangled themselves quickly, Thoria picking up a silver platter from a cabinet and announcing somewhat deliberately that she had found what she was looking for. Link had doubled up in silent laughter as she mimed swatting the fairy as Navi turned to lead them out of the dimly lit room.

Link grinned as they stole food from the kitchens and made their way to their alcove. They had slipped the fairy again, Thoria using her newfound “freedom” of the castle to announce she was going to the Library, Link advising he would join her shortly. He had slipped into his bathroom, Navi waiting on the other side of the door, and he had climbed out the window, shuffling along the ledge until he reached the corridor, Thoria handing him inside with a laugh.

Each time they were close, Link fought the urge to tell her he loved her. He wrestled with the words as they struggled to escape. The irony was not lost on him, how he had been so desperate to tell her before their first kiss, desperate to keep her close by, to show her how much she meant to him. But now she was here, in his arms, and something held him back.

Saying the words would make it real. Now, it was like a dream, a blissful, unending dream. If it was real, with weight, it could be broken. He couldn’t risk that. He couldn’t risk scaring her away, if he said it before she was ready.

They sat together in their alcove, no longer across from each other, but shoulder to shoulder, demolishing meat pies and cream cakes. Link took a little cream and dabbed it on Thoria’s nose. She twitched her nose and nipped at his finger, catching it between her teeth. She held it in her mouth as she licked the last of the cream from it, sending his mind into a blank stupor, redirecting the blood from his brain elsewhere.

But he pulled away. Again. He always pulled away. His mind raced with thoughts of what her tongue could do to him, if only he could get past his barriers. But each time he sank too deeply into their kisses, each time his hands strayed, or hers did, a blackness boiled up in his mind, and his body went cold. The alter slammed into the back of his head, and it was all he could do to keep from screaming in panic, to keep from thrashing away, as he had with Ilia. As he had with the farm girl. As he had, in his drunken shame, from a tavern whore in the Lanayru Province.

As always, Thoria didn’t press him. She never questioned why he pulled away, and she never forced the issue. She simply gave him her half smile and nestled against his shoulder as he tried to still his heart. Part of him wished she would. Part of him wanted her to push, to try to break through. But he knew that it would only end in fear and anger, in pain and in loss. He wished he could tell her the reason. The real reason. But it was a secret that he held close to his chest. No one would ever, _ever_ know. Not even Thoria.

It didn’t matter that she cared for him, that she remained even after he had shown her a slice of his shattered soul. If there was one thing that would drive her from him, to send her scorning and disgusted into the distance, it would be the memory of a dark alter in a long-forgotten temple.


	63. 63 - Zelda

“Princess!” Impa’s voice was hushed and urgent. “Lord Dool has arrived.”

“What?” Zelda forgot herself. Her half-crunched toast fell from her fingers, spilling crumbs over her paperwork. She brushed them away, surreptitiously hiding the fanciful love letter she was penning to Link, one that she would never send. “What do you mean?”

“Lord Dool has arrived,” Impa repeated. “He has brought his entourage, a semblance of twenty fops and manservants. He is demanding to speak with you.”

Zelda wiped the butter from her lips, gazing about her chamber. “Stall him.”

Impa’s eyes were rueful. “We have been stalling him this last hour, Princess.”

She cursed. “Din save me. What does he want?”

“To speak with you,” Impa said. “If I had to guess, I would wager it is about your suitors.”

“I have neither the time nor the desire to indulge him,” Zelda turned away, smoothing her skirts. Impa sighed.

“Unfortunately, Lord Dool made a point to send word to your father prior to his arrival,” the Sheikah said. Zelda stiffened and turned as Impa raised her hands apologetically. “He has commanded me to ensure you meet with the Lord, and to... ah, placate him, lest he call his banners.”

Zelda’s mouth formed a grim line. “Very well. I shall dress. Please send word to Lord Dool that I shall be with him in the next hour. Have him wait for me in the Blue Room.”

Impa bowed and swept from her chambers, returning less than a minute later to assist the princess in her preparations. As Impa worked braids into her hair, Zelda read over her research notes. She was no closer to finding the location of the artefact that promised strength to her armies. If she could hold Dool off for long enough to discover its whereabouts, perhaps she need not worry about the man. She breathed deeply as Impa’s strong fingers worked through her hair.

Prepared, Zelda took a slow walk to the ground floor of the castle, a journey that took almost ten minutes if one was in a hurry. The sun was well in the sky before she opened the doors to the Blue Room, an overly grand reception room coloured entirely in shades of blue. Dool’s lackeys crowded outside, and it seemed to Zelda that their bows were mocking.

Dool was lounging on one of the sofas, his arms draped over the back of it, one ankle balanced on his knee.

“Ah, Princess,” he said. He did not rise. “I am honoured by your presence.”

“Lord Dool,” Zelda gave him a tightly regal smile and settled opposite him, crossing her ankles. “The honour is mine.”

Dool smiled, leaning back in his seat, his arms spread across the back of it. He twitched his ankle, bobbing it along to an unheard beat. The silence stretched, and Zelda folded her hands in her lap. He would not best her in this game. She could remain silent and demure for hours, if necessity dictated. He would speak first.

And speak first he did. After ten long, agonisingly uncomfortable minutes.

“I am pleased to see you well,” he said, tilting his head to the side, his gold tooth winking above his immaculately groomed beard. “I had not heard from you in so long… I feared the worst.”

“The life of a princess regent is a busy one,” Zelda said. “I hope you can forgive my silence. I have had matters of importance to attend to.”

If Dool registered the slight, he did not show it. His smile remained, watching her, his head tilted. Zelda allowed the quiet to swell once more. Under her gloves, her knuckles were white.

“How are you liking my gifts?” Dool asked, his eyes roving over her face. He _was_ undeniably handsome, Zelda thought, in his features and his figure. But he was no Hero of Twilight. And he was oily and snakelike.

“I like them well, my Lord.” Zelda twitched the corners of her mouth. “However, I wonder. What has caused you to send so many, and so frequent?”

“I am merely expressing my love for you,” he said, sitting straight at last. He spread his hands, hands that were adorned with golden rings. “You are a being worthy of all the wondrous things in the world, and it is my duty to provide them for you.”

“I have many wondrous things already,” Zelda replied, indicating their surroundings. The walls were decorated with grand paintings, the rugs on the floor exquisitely stitched, the brocade intricately spun. “What I require, my Lord, is a strong, stable man to rule by my side.”

“He sits before you,” Dool said. “My gifts to you are for you, with no expectation. A testament to my adoration for you. I do not hope to win your hand with such trinkets. You are a clever girl,” his smile broadened. “You already know of my achievements. My virility. My status. Tell me, my love, who is better suited to the throne than I?”

 _My father,_ Zelda thought. _Myself. My Chosen Knight._ But she simply smiled.

“My Lord, I have met with a great many men. All of whom have attributes I favour, for different reasons.” Dool’s eyes flashed, but Zelda pressed on. “However, I find that my royal duties have become somewhat pressing of late.”

Dool leaned forward. “Such duties would be less stressful to you with me by your side,” he purred. “I would take such burdens from your shoulders, my love. You would never have to work again. You would while away your days with your knitting, long walks in the sun, hot baths…” his gaze strayed, and Zelda fought not to rise and strike his face.

Dool sat back. “There are no downsides to my being your husband, your king.” His eyes were steely, and Zelda tensed her shoulders. “So, I must ask. Why do you hesitate? Are you intimidated by me, my love? I can assure you, I am a most gentle and agreeable man. Do you desire someone younger? I may be nearing my fifth decade, but I am as strong and virile as a man in his third. I will give you many strong sons, and teach them all in the art of ruling a kingdom.”

“I did not know you had such experience,” Zelda said, sweetly. Before Dool could respond, she ducked her head. “My royal duties as you would understand them are not what ails me, my Lord. The running of my kingdom is a simple thing.” She glanced at him, his expression unreadable. She closed her eyes, wincing internally.

“My father is unwell, as you may be aware,” she said.

“I had heard,” Dool replied, and surprisingly, his eyes softened. “The poor man is suffering terribly, from what my sources tell me.”

Zelda swallowed her pride. “Yes, he is.” She took a breath.

“I would beg my Lord’s forgiveness,” she said, bowing her head. “I am greatly concerned for my father’s health. He weakens each day, and I find myself consumed with worry for him.”

Dool’s mouth twisted, but he said nothing. Zelda steeled herself.

“I would humbly ask my Lord’s patience. Whilst I… am coming to terms with his mortality… I…” she sighed. “I am but a woman. My emotions are strong.”

Dool’s smile was gentle. He rose from his seat and knelt before her, taking her gloved hands in his own.

“It is the wonders of the fairer sex,” he said, rubbing his thumbs over the back of her hands. “The softness of women. You feel so strongly. Your mind is in turmoil. I understand, my delicate flower. You cannot focus on ruling the kingdom, let alone finding a suitable husband whilst you are distracted so.”

Zelda forced a smile, her heart fluttering. “I am glad you understand, my Lord.”

Dool grinned. “Of course I do. I would not have my fragile little bluebird to perturbed! Rest assured, little one. When I rule, you will never have to worry about such things again. You need not carry such a burden alone.”

He rose, his face coming close to hers. Zelda sensed Impa stiffen in the corner, and she wanted to rise, to strike the vain lord across his bearded jaw, to throw him in a cell for the contempt he had shown. But, she kept her head bowed, her hands still, as Dool kissed her cheek, his beard scratchy against her skin.

When Zelda raised her eyes to him, she was surprised to find them full of understanding, not lust.

“It is a hard thing, to watch a parent fight their last battle,” he said, softly. “I am a man accustomed to speaking his mind, but I know what it is to watch as one you love slowly slips away. The helplessness. The fear. The anger. I want to be there for you, my princess, to take your mind off the pain of it all. I have lost both my parents to slow-burning illnesses. I understand. Whatever it is that you need of me, even if it is for me to retreat for a time, ask it of me, and I shall do as you bid.”

Zelda stared at her knees, taken aback by this sudden vulnerability. “I would not want my Lord to think I am ungrateful.”

“I would never think that,” he murmured.

“My Lord is gracious,” Zelda said, and allowed her face to rest against his.

He purred, low in his throat, his cheek against hers. Zelda knew what he wanted. She summoned Link into her mind, his deep, blue eyes, his high cheekbones, his thick brows, his corded muscle. Steeling herself, she tilted her chin, and allowed Dool to kiss her.

His lips were surprisingly soft, and gentle against her own. With Link in her mind, Zelda found herself breathless. Dool retreated, his eyes half-lidded.

“I would hope you answer more of my letters,” he said. “I understand your predicament, oh beautiful bird, but I long for your word. Now I know your trouble, you should not feel the need to hide it from me. But I will not wait too long. Send word to me, my love, else I might begin to believe you have been injured, or taken captive.” His smile broadened. “I would not want to march on your lovely castle.”

He rose, flicking his yellow cape. He gave a deep bow to Zelda, and a smirk to Impa, standing by the door, her red eyes hot and angry. He swept from the room as elegantly as a stoat, and then it was just the two of them.

“The _nerve_ ,” Impa snarled, flying forth. She knelt in front of Zelda, whose mouth was surprisingly warm.

“It had to be done,” she murmured, wrongfooted. “I could see no other way to hold him off.”

“But now he thinks he stands a chance,” Impa sighed and took her hands, mimicking the lord’s pose, but her touch was welcome. “Sweet one, there must have been another way.”

“None that would not end in war,” Zelda replied. Link’s face was still in her mind, and she imagined him in the night air, bare chested and strong. It was his lips she wanted. His touch she craved.

Impa pulled her close and she rested her head against her shoulder. She felt unclean by Dool’s touch, but she knew it was necessary. All she had to do was find a way to hold him off, to stall him, until she found a way to change the laws of Hyrule. With Link by her side, Dool would not dare rise up against her. And if he did, she would find pleasure in striking his head from his shoulders herself.

“Send for Ser Link,” she murmured. Impa stirred.

“It is not time for your report,” she said.

“I know,” Zelda replied. “It will not be for a few nights yet. But I desire his company. Send for him when the night arrives. I will share in a cup of wine with him.”

Impa nodded. “I will send for him in the evening. Is there aught else I can do for you, sweet one?”

Zelda swallowed. Link was still in her mind, his face, his body. She licked her lips as a warmth condensed between her legs.

“Perhaps…” she said. “But I would not ask it of you.”

Impa’s eyes crinkled at the edges. “You would not need to, Zelda. I understand.”

Zelda returned her hidden smile. Impa always knew.


	64. 64 - Navi

Navi lit sullenly on the windowsill outside the Library. Peering in, she could see them through the reflected light of her glorious blue glow, her Hero and that damned stranger. The bitch was talking, pointing at a book propped on her knees, waving her hands. Link was smiling patiently, nodding as she gesticulated. Navi glared. From this angle, it looked as though they were close together, their knees almost touching. But she couldn’t be sure.

They had been avoiding her. She _knew_ it. After Link had escaped through his bathroom window no less than three times as she hovered outside, trusting him, patiently waiting for ages, she had magicked it closed and sealed it. He had come out a few days ago, frowning, and slouched his way to the corridor, where the stranger was waiting. How _odd_ that she wasn’t in the training yard, like she had said she would be!

But the wicked stranger had foiled her again. After she had barred his window, Link had left his bed before Navi had woken, stealing away in the hours before dawn. It seemed her clever lie had done nothing to draw Link out of her vile grasp.

Why was he avoiding her? Navi kicked at the stone sill. They were partners! Best friends! Companions through thick and thin! It was because of this whore, this bitch, this stranger! She was taking her Link away! She clenched her fists. Though she had no proof, she knew in her bones something was happening. The stranger was taking over his mind, driving him away from those who loved him, who cared for him. Ensnaring him in a net of foul magic. All the better for her to take over the kingdom!

Navi dropped to her butt, folding her legs and hugging herself against the autumn chill. If only she could make him see! She had tried… oh, how she had tried. But he would hear none of it, none of her words of wisdom. And when she had tried other ways, waiting for him to fall asleep, and creeping to him as he slept, some sort of magic had caused him to wake before she could tug at his sheets, to massage him through the cloth. She had been forced to hide until he settled again, fearful of what he would say if he caught her, knowing he was not yet ready.

She glared through the glass at the pair of them. The stranger was writing something, pointing to it, while Link’s eyes went wide. He nodded enthusiastically, grinning all over his stupid face.

Thoria shrugged, reaching behind the sofa for more parchment, balanced on the table behind them as Link stared at the parchment in her lap. Navi watched her slyly, smirking as her fingers dusted the edges of the papers, too far from her reach. The stupid cow would have to move, then she could sit her fat behind down somewhere else, away from her Hero! Then Navi’s eyes went wide as the sheaf of parchment seemed to _slide towards her hand_ , and she picked it up with a satisfied nod.

Navi gaped. Had her eyes deceived her? Was the angle wrong? Did it just _look_ like the stranger had pulled the parchment to her without touching it? She ran her hands through her hair. Was this her proof? She knew the stranger had magic, it was the only way to explain her hold over Link, a man so just and good and wonderful it would take a mage of Ganon’s power to warp his mind.

Perturbed, Navi flew off the windowsill, making for Zelda’s chambers. The autumn air was cool, and though she could use her magic to warm herself, she did not want to spend her energy. So, she shivered her way up to the princess’s tower, wriggling through the cracked window as the door to the royal bedchamber clicked shut.

Zelda was on her bed in her underskirt, lying down, her blonde hair tumbling about the pillows. One regal hand was on her stomach, the other behind her head. Navi observed her. She was truly majestic and beautiful, she thought, as she looked. The near-perfect match for their Hero.

Zelda stirred and opened her eyes.

“Navi,” she said, her voice soft. The fairy flittered down, lighting next to her head.

“I hope I’ve not disturbed your rest,” she said.

“No, I am not resting.” Zelda eased herself into a sitting position with a sigh. “I was… relieving some of the tension of the day.”

“I might add to it,” Navi said, sullenly. “I saw that woman using magic.”

Zelda flinched. “I beg your pardon?”

Navi nodded. “I saw it. I was watching her and Link in the Library, just now. She couldn’t reach a bunch of parchment, then suddenly, she could!”

She stilled her wings, waiting for the princess’s cry of amazement, for her to shout for her guards, for the stranger to be arrested at last!

But Zelda sighed. “Navi… are you certain?”

“Of course I am!” she snapped. “Why would I make it up?”

“Do you have proof?” Zelda asked, softly.

“I…” Navi stopped. “Well, no, of course I don’t! But I saw her! With my own eyes!”

Zelda lowered her head.

“Navi, I can do nothing without proof.”

Navi squealed.

“But I _saw_ it!” she cried, “I saw her move it without touching it! She’s got magic! She’s enslaved Link to be with her every minute of the day, and he’s avoiding me so she can do magic without me seeing, but I saw her anyway!”

Zelda’s smile was soft.

“I would believe you,” she murmured. “Truly, I would. But without evidence, I can do nothing.”

“But…”

“And you know Ser Link is guarding her under my father’s command,” Zelda continued. “I cannot say if he is avoiding you, I have not witnessed it. But… Lady Thoria… I cannot act without proof.”

Navi felt furious tears spill over her cheeks. “I saw it!”

“I understand,” Zelda said. “But I can do nothing, sweet fae. Please understand.”

“You can!” Navi wept. “You can arrest her, hang her, anything! You’re the princess!”

Zelda reached out and cupped Navi, her fingers smooth and soft under her. She brought her to her cheek. Navi, sniffling, reached out and held on to Zelda’s face.

“I would if I could,” Zelda murmured. “But I am bound by my father’s laws. I hear what you say, and I will remember it. But without evidence, there is nothing we can do. If we rush, we may bring the darkness upon ourselves before its time.”

“But if you do nothing, Hyrule is in danger. Link is in danger,” Navi mumbled.

“I know. And it grieves me. I am caught between fire and ice,” Zelda said. “Please understand, dear fairy. I can do nothing without proof.”

“Do you believe me?” Navi asked.

Zelda hesitated.

“I… know that you have found Lady Thoria’s appearance more daunting than most,” she said, carefully. “I know you feel somewhat displaced. You are Link’s constant companion, and I know you do not care for her, and it irks you that she is here. I understand. I too wish he was back by my side.”

“She’s evil,” Navi muttered, again. Zelda sighed.

“I can do nothing without sure indication,” she said again. “As much as I trust you, I know that your love for our Hero means you will protect him at all costs. But the stranger leaning just a bit further to gather parchment… it does not suggest magic.”

“What does that mean?” Navi asked, launching away from the princess. “Do you think I’m lying?”

Zelda smiled softly at her.

“We have all been upset by Lady Thoria’s appearance,” she said. “I as much as you. We must wait.”

Furious, Navi flew back out the window. Even Zelda didn’t believe her! Damn her diplomacy! There were no nobles, no courtiers to hear her confession, just Navi! She cried and cursed, her tears cold on her face. She flew back to the Library, hoping to seek comfort in Link’s collar. Even he would not refuse her if she was so distraught. But he was not there. Navi wailed.

He had gone again, left her alone, all alone! That thrice damned stranger and her wicked wiles! Where were they now?

She flew through the castle, calling. She knew she had seen magic. Link was doubly in danger now. She could not let them out of her sight again, even if it meant she had to follow them without being seen. She just had to find proof of the stranger’s magic, and Zelda would act!

She slowed her flight.

What if she _had_ imagined it?

What if it _was_ the angle? The glare from the sun on the window, the way she was sitting? She sighed, and came to rest on a suit of armour. Zelda was right. If there was no proof, her word meant nothing. And if she had imagined it and the stranger was imprisoned, only for trial to prove she was… innocent… Link would be _so_ angry with her.

Navi scrubbed her face and sighed, her nose stuffy with grief. She needed proof. She had to save her lovely Link from the wicked wiles of the stranger.


	65. 65 - Link

“Just watch her!” Navi squeaked. “I’m telling you, if you watch her, you’ll see something’s wrong!”

“I am watching her,” Link replied, exasperated. He felt a smile pull at his lips as he headed for the Great Hall. Thoria had not been in her rooms, the note pinned to her door declaring that she was simply starving, and would meet him at breakfast. If only the fairy knew just how closely he had watched her these last few weeks.

“You need to look harder,” Navi grumbled. Then, she sighed. “I’m so worried, Link,” she said, nuzzling against his neck. “The prophecy hasn’t come to fruition yet, and Hyrule is still in danger. You’re in danger.”

“It’s going to be fine, Navi,” Link replied, jogging down one of the grand staircases. Not long now. Hardly a minute until he was back with Thoria. “I’ve been at this game long enough now to know danger when I see it.”

Navi grunted. “I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I won’t. I promise.”

He made his way into the Great Hall, the familiar sounds and smells assailing him. He spotted Thoria instantly, tucked neatly under their usual table, holding a book in one hand, and scratching notes on a sheaf of parchment with the other. She looked up as he approached, her smile broadening to match his own. She was wearing a simple black shirt, a thin, cotton cloak hung over the back of her chair.

“Good morning,” she greeted him with a wink. “Sleep well?”

“Absolutely,” he replied. And he had. He could hardly remember feeling so well. “You?”

“Eh,” she shrugged. “I was up half the night again. I couldn’t stop thinking about this Majora’s Mask thingy. Do you know about it?”

Link laughed. Once upon a time, the mere mention of the horrific mask and all the evil it contained would send a cold finger shivering along his spine and madness fluting at the edges of his consciousness. But with Thoria, he felt as though nothing could touch him.

“I know a little,” he said. “I mean, I only fought against it.”

“Oh, you would have!” Thoria swatted his arm. “Is there anything you haven’t done?”

 _Told you I love you,_ he thought. But he shrugged as a servant brought over plates of steaming food. Navi left his shoulder and snatched a large piece of crispy bacon, retreating across the table until she could observe the pair of them, glaring at Thoria.

She, for her part, ignored the fairy completely.

“What are you reading?” Link asked. She showed him the cover of the book. _Heroes of Legende and Theyre Tayles._

“Mostly about you,” she said. “I was curious to see what history said. Did you really have a cloak that could make you invisible?”

“No,” Link replied. “Nor did I have the power to call down lightning.”

“Aw,” Thoria pouted. “I’d have loved to see that. Can you still run faster than thought?”

Link chuckled. “Not all of my abilities are passed down,” he said. “In some of my old lives, I could use magic, for instance. I can’t now.”

Thoria fumbled her cup and cursed as tea splashed over the table. Before they could blink, a servant was there, mopping the spillage and refilling her cup. Thoria thanked them graciously, apologising for the mess.

“Magic, huh?” she finally put her book away and ran her hands over her hair. “Like what?”

“Din’s Fire, Farore’s Wind, things like that.”

“You say that like I know what they are,” she teased.

They chattered a while longer, until their food was finished. Outside, the sky was a moody grey, and the ground was damp. They rose, and walked from the hall, Navi settling herself back in Link’s collar.

“Do you want to train?” Link asked. “It’s cold out there.”

“Yeah, can do,” Thoria said. “To be fair, it _is_ cold out. If you’d rather do something else…?”

The look she gave him nearly stopped him in his tracks. He could almost feel her lips against his, her body pressed against his own. He swallowed, and made a subtle indication to his shoulder. Thoria twisted her mouth.

“Training it is, then.”

“Or, we could do the Hall of History,” Link said. “Or the Vaults. Zelda’s got loads of artefacts down there.”

Navi hissed in his ear.

“Don’t show her those! She’ll steal them!”

Thoria threw a sidelong glance at the pair of them.

“I dunno. Let’s just wander a while. See where we end up.”

And wander they did, for the whole morning. Their route took them through the castle, past the Library and the council chambers, past the not-so-secret Mage’s meeting room, and the astronomy tower, talking of little things. They stopped for lunch, and then they were out into the grounds, looping round the gardens, Thoria revelling in the colours of the autumn. She pranced through the grounds with childlike abandon, kicking up great piles of leaves and laughing.

All the while, Link thought of her, and how he longed to take her to him. His hands itched to wind through her soft hair, to pull her close. Distracted as he was, he tripped on a hidden stone and stumbled, sending Navi pitching into the air with a shriek.

She settled back, and continued her incessant, whispered grumblings. Link had gotten very good at tuning her out. As they re-entered the castle, Thoria gave him a pointed look, her eyes flicking to his, to the glow at his collar, and back again.

“I’m just going to nip to my rooms,” she said, raising a deliberate eyebrow. “Meet you at the stables? I kinda fancy a ride.”

“Sure,” Link said. Thoria glanced to his collar again, and mouthed _“astronomy tower.”_

She skipped away, and Link sighed, following at a more leisurely pace. Navi, surprisingly, was quiet.

He made his way along the corridor until he came to a bathroom.

“Be out in a minute,” he said, nudging the fairy. She flittered off his shoulder.

“Oh, I know _that_ trick,” she said. “You’re just going to sneak off and leave me again!”

Link tried to look offended. He knew he should feel guilty, for that was exactly what he intended to do. But something within him just didn’t have the energy to care. The bothersome fairy was stopping him being with Thoria. He thought of her again, her lithe figure, her slim hands, her pale neck…

“Do you really want to come in with me?” he asked. “I mean… it’s a bit odd.”

“I want to make sure you don’t get hurt,” Navi said, folding her arms.

Link rolled his eyes and laughed. “Navi, I’ve been pissing by myself for over twenty years. I’m pretty sure I can manage.”

The fairy curled her lip. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it!”

Link opened the door, revealing the grand marble tile and rather ostentatious window. “Do you want to watch? I’m sure people pay very well in certain parts of Hyrule, after all…”

Navi squealed and covered her face, her cheeks blushing a deep navy. “Just hurry up! If you’re not out in two minutes I’ll come in!”

“I will be.”

 _And I will!_ He thought gleefully as he closed the door behind him. He pressed his ear to the wood, then opened it a crack. Navi was nowhere in sight. He grinned. He knew she would have gone to the window, to catch him climbing out. He shot a quick look both ways down the corridor, then set off at a run for the astronomy tower.

He caught up to Thoria halfway up the narrow, spiralling staircase. He barrelled into her and pitched them both down, Link catching their weight before they crashed against the steps. Her hips pressed against his own, her hands at the back of his head, pulling him down. His breath came in short gasps, her chest heaved, and her ankles hooked behind his back.

Her hands slid under his tunic, her fingers cool, like fresh spring water. The muscles of her belly contracted as he ran his hands over her hips. He wanted to tear the fabric from her body, to have her, here and now. Frenzied, he pushed his lips harder against hers, bracing himself against the stairs. Her fingers were at his belt, under his tunic, sliding below his waistline.

And then the alter reared in his mind once more. Link flinched and jerked away with a gasp, Thoria breathless beneath him. Her hands slid from his sides and rested on his shoulders.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

She gave a low chuckle. “No worries. Come on.” He did not miss that her jaw was clenched, that her smile was tight.

She wriggled out from under him, crawling up the last few steps and rising. Link followed more slowly, his mind heavy, cursing himself, cursing his failure, cursing his past. They climbed up onto the telescope, and out onto the roof, where they sat, watching the darkening sky.

Link sighed, wrapping his arms around his knees. It was cold up here, the winds frigid and unforgiving. He pulled his cloak tighter about himself.

Thoria mimicked his position, huddled next to him. Her head to one side, her eyes roved over his face. He didn’t look to her. How could he tell her? How could he explain why he shied from her intimacy? He longed for her touch, but pushed her away each time. How long would she put up with it? How long would it be before she got bored, or mistook his reluctance for distaste? How long until she left him alone to face his nightmares?

She leaned in and kissed him softly on the cheek. When he didn’t respond, she sat back, and fiddled with the tiles, breaking off a large piece of blue clay. She tossed it in her hand a moment, flipping it up and down. Then, she leaned back, and flung the tile as hard as she could. It sailed, spinning through the air, before gravity took hold and it fell, down, down to the earth, where it shattered with a faint _crack_.

Link flinched. Had anyone heard? What if they were caught up here? Thoria fidgeted with the tiles again, snapping off another piece. She tossed it in the air, and Link grabbed for it, swiping it away before it fell back to her hands. She looked at him wordlessly, her expression unreadable.

The tile was cool in his hand. He tore his gaze from her emerald eyes and stared at the clay. He stared a long moment. Then, his frustration boiled up inside him, and he pitched the tile into the air, watching it arc over the rooftop and vanish. He waited for the tinkle of broken tile, almost soundless on the air. The ghost of a smile tugged his lips.

Without speaking, Thoria pulled up another piece of roof. Link did the same, and they began to throw the tiles over the edge, laughter coming easily to their throats. With each piece that he threw, Link felt his heart lightening. It felt so good to just let go, to indulge in the simple, destructive pleasure of smashing roof tiles in the cold autumn night.

A shout echoed from below. A guard had found the debris.

Giggling, Link followed Thoria as she scrambled over the roof, ducking down, hugging the tiles, sliding along until they reached the opening. They slipped inside, sniggering like naughty children, hiding in the darkness.

He felt her next to him. He felt her turn to him, her arms sliding around his waist. He kissed her, and she folded into his arms. She broke the kiss before he sank too deep.

In the dim light, her eyes were knowing. Her smile was patient. Together, they slid down the wall and curled up. He shivered as the ghost of shadow crossed his mind, and he pushed it away, with difficulty. He had to savour her. She could never know the darkness in his mind, the secrets that he kept, for she would leave him, disgusted, laughing, sneering. But it was a simple waiting game, and he knew time was running out. It might be enough for her now, to sit here and hold each other. But soon, she would become bored or frustrated, and he would be left to battle his demons alone once more.


	66. 66 - Navi

Almost two weeks had passed since Link had performed his little disappearing act. Navi, upon discovering his treachery, had not even bothered to go and look for him. Her fists balled, she had cursed and shrieked, upsetting a pair of maids passing in the corridor, sending them hurrying away. They hurried faster when Navi sent a bolt of petulant magic their way, causing the seat of their skirts to smoke.

She had spent the next week with Zelda. The princess was preoccupied with her research, delving ever deeper into ancient records of historical artefacts and the laws of the kingdom. But whenever she stopped, Navi was there, to soothe her frustrated mind, to sow seeds of discontent about the stranger, to encourage her love for their Hero.

A week should have been enough, she thought. But when she found Link again, training alone in the grounds, he had barely seemed to notice that she had been gone. She shouted at him a bit, then flew off in a huff, spitting curses at the stranger as she appeared, heading towards her Hero.

The look she had received in return sent fear into the very marrow of her bones.

Navi had taken the opportunity to investigate her rooms, searching for something, anything, that would help give evidence enough to the princess that the woman was nothing but evil manifest. Navi knew the princess was as frustrated by the lack of proof as she was, but, infuriatingly, there was nothing in the stranger’s rooms to suggest that she was anything but ordinary.

Sullenly, she had kicked over an ink bottle, staining the stranger’s scribbled notes on Zora customs, then hitched up her shift and pissed in her plant pot, hoping the plant would die. She considered setting fire to the bed, but all that would happen is the stranger would move to new rooms, rooms that were possibly nearer to her Hero. And Navi couldn’t have that.

She had tailed them discreetly as they walked through the grounds, their breath misting in the cool air. She kept hidden, even muting her glorious blue glow to better hide behind leaves and rocks and fountains. They were oblivious to her, chattering away like a pair of cuccos. The stranger had led them off the path and into a cluster of trees, holding back a slim branch for Link to pass through. Navi sped up, afraid to lose them, when Thoria had turned and looked her dead in the eye. With a smirk, she let the branch go. It shot back like a whip and caught Navi around the middle, sending her flying back into a pile of leaves. By the time she had extracted herself, wincing, the pair had vanished, and she cursed the stranger, vowing revenge.

Now, Navi flew along the corridor, searching for them. No matter how angry Link’s wilful blindness made her, she still loved him, and desperately wanted him away from the stranger, away from the impending doom that was sure to befall Hyrule.

She found them in the Library. Her instinct was to fly to Link, as he sat, leaning against the arm of the sofa, his head tilted back, dozing, a book open and resting over his face. The bitch sat at the opposite end, her feet tucked under her. Navi sneered. Did she not know that shoes on furniture was bad manners? She ignored the fact that Link had his boots on the table.

Navi settled on a bookshelf, wriggling until she was sure she was concealed. In the fading light of day, the magical lamps were glimmering into life, but they did not always light at the right times during spring and autumn. To circumvent this, candles had been decoratively placed on the low tables through the library. It was dangerous to have fire in here, but Navi knew that the ceiling would open and spray a deluge of water over the floor, should a fire ever begin.

There was a candle on the table next to the stranger’s elbow. It was a tall thing, made of tallow, and it flickered with a greasy, orange flame. Navi smirked.

She pushed, focusing her magic. The candle tilted, wobbled, and fell, coming to rest on the stranger’s arm. The flickering flame took hold of her sleeve greedily, beginning to grow. Navi put her hands over her mouth and stifled a laugh. The worst that would happen is she got a little burned, but it would be enough to see her hurt. If she was lucky, the stranger’s arrogance would stop her going to the Doctor, and the wound would become infected, and she would die.

Thoria looked up from her book, her head tilted slightly to the side. She turned her head and looked at the fire spreading along her sleeve. Navi wriggled, eager for her horrified reaction. But Thoria simply shifted her book into one hand, raising the other. She flicked her hand over her sleeve as though she was brushing away a fly, and the fire went out, gone as if it had never been, the candle rocking back to stand upright.

Navi gaped. _That was magic_. She knew she had been right!

She flew out from behind the bookshelf, squealing triumphantly and pointing at Thoria. She looked up as Link jerked awake with an oath.

“I knew it!” Navi screamed. “You’re a witch!”

Thoria’s eyebrows shot up. Link rubbed his eyes and stared between them both. As his gaze came to rest on Navi, his brows lowered into a thunderous frown.

“Just what in the red hell are you-“

“She has magic!” Navi yelled. “A candle fell on her arm and she put it out with magic!”

Link half rose from his seat. “I’ve had _enough_ of this-“

“It did?” Thoria raised her arm and inspected her ruined sleeve. “Huh! Look at that. I didn’t even notice.”

“You did,” Navi snarled, keeping her distance. “I saw you!”

“You were spying on us?” Link was still glaring, but shockingly, Thoria was smiling. She laid a hand on Link’s arm, and Navi thought she would explode with fury.

“I think I know what happened.” She turned to the fairy, her smile warm. “A candle fell, and Navi saved me. She’s just too embarrassed to say it, after all this time.” Her smile widened. “Thank you, Navi. I could have been badly hurt.”

“It wasn’t me!” Navi shrieked. “It was _you!_ ”

“Why would I burn myself?” she asked, a bemused chuckle rising from her throat. Link’s expression cleared, and he sank back to the sofa, pulling Thoria’s arm to him, his fingers brushing the charred material.

“That makes more sense.” He smiled too. “Thanks Navi. Really. I guess this means you guys can be friends?”

“I didn’t! She’s _lying_!” Navi screamed. Why did he not believe her? She had proof! But the stranger’s lies, her evil powers made Link blind. Navi would never save _her_ , she had been the one to start the fire in the first place! She almost admitted it, but stopped herself. Link would never forgive her, bewitched as he was.

She drew herself up, glaring at the pair of them. She turned and flew away, squealing in fury and frustration.

Link was still in danger. If the stranger could manipulate fire like that, and move things without touching them, and bewitch her Hero, then what else could she do? How long did Navi have before she turned, and killed her Link and took over Hyrule as the prophecy foretold? She couldn’t bear the thought!

She knew she had little time. Something had to be done. Not her usual, subtle ways to try to make him see, the idiot boy simply refused to see the danger. And Zelda would demand proof, proof that the stranger was too clever to let slip. She would do nothing to stop this, despite her power! No. This was on Navi’s shoulders, for she alone knew the truth of the monster that had infected the castle.

She lit on a window sill and sang her incantation, the portal to the fae realm opening before her. She had to get rid of the witch once and for all. There were many ways to do it, but Navi could only think of one that was guaranteed to work.

She was going to have to kill Thoria.


	67. 67 - Zelda

Zelda strode through the castle, holding her anger in check. The council meeting had been just as infuriating as usual, the council members undermining her wise decisions and snipping at her under the guise of concern and pious sincerity.

Impa trailed behind her, dutiful as ever. She said not a word, and Zelda was grateful. She had no wish to engage in any form of communication until she had calmed.

Her mind was full of the trials that lay before Hyrule. Though the kingdom was all but recovered, the commons and those living in the outlying settlements were still struggling. They needed aid, and would be the first to suffer and fall if evil were to befall Hyrule once more, but the nobility seemed oblivious to their plight, and shied away from the prospect of delving into their coffers to provide more aid.

But that wasn’t the worst of it. The council had seemed almost obsessed with the idea of her marriage, demanding details of her suitors, offering unsolicited opinions and advice. The Lady Cassandra had even gone so far as to offer one of her own sons, the eldest of which was a mere fourteen.

Zelda grimaced. She knew the importance of choosing a husband. She knew the fate of the kingdom rested with her, and her ability to choose the right man to rule by her side. But none of her suitors seemed up to the task, none of them!

She reached her chambers and sighed, kicking off her shoes.

“Send for Ser Link,” she said to Impa. “I desire to speak with him.”

“He would provide his report tomorrow evening, Zelda,” Impa said, softly.

“I am well aware,” Zelda replied. “But I wish for his company. You may guard the stranger until I release him.”

Impa bowed and left, though Zelda did not miss the disapproving look she gave her.

Zelda began to pace, her mind dark. At the fore was the stranger, this dark woman who blighted the land of Hyrule. The Mage of Shadows still had not returned, and Zelda felt a growing sense of unease, a feeling that perhaps he would not return at all.

Her assassins had also failed. After the failure of the first, against her better judgement, Zelda had slipped out of the castle in the dead of night, disguised, and met with a dark man who demanded a disgracefully large sum of rupees for his trouble, promising that he had never failed. But he had.

The stranger yet lived, spending her days with her Hero, Zelda’s Hero, each moment taking him further from her grasp. What more could she possibly do? She could not denounce the woman, nor imprison her, without proper proof of wrongdoing! Her father would overrule any decision she made, without the evidence to back it up.

Navi’s reports were troubling. The fairy was convinced the stranger was indulging in dark magic, using wicked wiles to ensnare her Hero, to… move things, to… Zelda shook her head. As much as she believed the little fae, as much as she was convinced that the stranger was dangerous and full of power, she had no proof! What more could she do? She could send no more assassins, not whilst Link was guarding her. She could not slip her a poison, for fear that her father would know. She could not send her on a dangerous mission, for it would be Link who would accompany her, Link who would be in danger. She could not risk him.

Zelda sighed and moved to the fireplace, where Impa had placed a number of small, decorative statues. Her favourite was a glazed porcelain piece that depicted the three Goddesses entwined around the golden Triforce, their hair coloured red, blue and green above white robes. She frowned at it. There was a small crack on Nayru’s pale arm. She would have to ask Impa to fix it, when she had the time.

She fretted about her suite for almost half an hour before Link arrived. At his appearance, all her troubles seemed to melt away.

“Link,” she said, smiling. “Thank you for coming.”

“It is my honour,” he said, giving a deep bow.

 _By the might of the Divines_ , she thought, as she took him in. _Has he grown taller, stronger, more muscular?_ Her mouth was dry as she stared, drinking in the sight of him. Something was undoubtably different. He seemed so much happier these days, and whilst Zelda was glad at his improved mood, something soured within her, a jealousy that festered deep in her core. It should be _her_ that made him smile so, _her_ that brought light to his eyes! And without proof that it was the stranger casting wicked magics upon him, she could do nothing! Even her weak, sputtering Triforce could do nothing. If only she held the Triforce of Power!

“What service do you require of me, Highness?” Link asked.

Zelda ran her tongue over her lips.

“None but your company,” she said, a little breathlessly. “I know that this constant guarding of the stranger must be tiring for you. I thought a short break, an hour or two with me would help.”

Link blinked rapidly. “I… thank you for your kind thoughts, Highness,” he said. “I do my duty for you, for the kingdom, with gladness.”

Zelda smiled widely. “And I thank you. Please, come sit.” She indicated the set of sofas. Link came forward and sat opposite her, as he always did. Zelda bit down her frustration at his courtesy, but soothed herself with the thought that, perhaps, it would not be this way forever. As she sat, she pulled the skirt of her dress, tugging it surreptitiously so that is showed a scandalous length of calf. Link didn’t even look.

They spoke of small things, with Zelda finding she led most of the conversation over hot tea and scones. With a little prompting, Link gave short accounts of some of his adventures, describing in brief his encounter with a vampire, his foray into a haunted mansion to collect a valuable trinket for her, and his meeting with a trickster spirit that he outwitted to gain its magic flute.

“You are my most valuable asset,” Zelda said, as Link finished his clinical account. She propped her chin in her hand and gazed at him through half-lidded eyes. “I am indeed most fortunate to have you. You have done oh so very much for me, for the kingdom.”

“I am at your disposal, Highness,” he said, staring at something to the left of her. “Whatever task you set me, I am honoured to accomplish.”

Zelda smiled with a soft sigh. “I know. You are ever my most faithful Knight,” she said. “And I promise you, there will always be a purpose. I won’t ever send you out again without properly checking my own archives first.” She propped her chin on her hand, gazing at him through half-lidded eyes.

Something flickered behind his eyes. “I… am not sure what you mean, Highness.”

“Oh, I am sure you remember,” she said. “It must have been… oh, almost two years ago now? I sent you to that forgotten temple on a fool’s errand.”

His eyes seemed to widen. Or perhaps it was a trick of the light. He sat as stoically as ever, his feet planted surely, his back straight. He gave her a small smile. “I can barely remember, Highness.”

“Oh, you are sweet,” she said, rising and moving to him. “It must have been an awful chore, going there, to return empty handed. I feel rather terrible. Navi said you had been in a battle. All that for nothing.”

“No task is a chore when it is set by yourself, Highness,” Link said, and Zelda’s smile broadened. He was so charming, so thoughtful. It had preyed on her mind for months. How she had fretted, worried that he would think her stupid, sending him on such a pointless mission.

“You are too kind, my Link,” she said. She laid a hand on his shoulder, settling down beside him, too close to be proper. “Tell me. Was the battle you fought a hard one? You thankfully seemed uninjured when you returned to me.”

Link stared at something on the other side of the room. If only he would allow his courtesy to slip, to look into her eyes, and he would see the love she held for him. She kept her hand on his shoulder, pressing her fingertips into the muscle there. She swallowed. He seemed to be carved of oak, each curve and groove of his flesh hard under her hand.

“It was a battle,” he said. “I have fought many. This one was no different.”

He cleared his throat, edged back and rose, and her hand fell from his shoulder.

“Princess, do you need me for anything else?” he glanced over his shoulder. “I… uh…”

“You have my leave,” she said. She rose and moved close again, longing for him to take her in his arms. “You are free to go whenever you wish. But I wonder. Would you stay a while with me? Share a cup of wine, talk more of your adventures? You have seen so much, my sweet Hero. You delight me with your tales.”

Link worked his jaw, as though he was chewing something. His eyes darted around the room. He was blinking a lot, as though he had a lash caught at the edge of his eye.

“I… would be honoured,” he said. “However… I… uh. Can I take a rain check?” he glanced at her and away again, his gaze skittering over her face like a startled rabbit.

“A… rain check?” Zelda stepped forward again, concerned. He was on edge. Something was wrong. She had never seen her Hero so jumpy.

“Sorry, it’s a phrase Thoria uses. It means to rearrange plans.” He flashed a quick smile. “It’s just… I…”

“Something is the matter,” she said, touching his shoulder again. He shied away. “Tell me. I can help.”

He shook his head. “I’m fine. Thank you. I just… I should go.”

For a moment, Zelda considered demanding that he stay, that he tell her what disturbed him so. Was it his duties, this constant watching of the stranger? Had something happened back at home, to one of those common village people he had grown up with? Her fingers dug into his shoulder. She knew she could make it better. She could soothe his hurts with soft kisses, and he could soothe her burning loins. Giving a favour for a favour.

But she released him.

“Go,” she said. “I will call on you another day. I look forward to it. Perhaps we shall take a picnic?”

Link was already halfway to the door. He threw a weak smile over his shoulder.

“Sure.”

And he was gone.

Zelda stared at the door a long time, thinking. Eventually, she gave an elegant shrug. Whatever it was that had distracted him, he would overcome in moments, she knew. She settled at her desk and began to doodle plans for an autumn picnic, with crisp apples and soft cheese, honeyed wine and warm, fresh bread.


	68. 68 - Link

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ARCHIVE WARNINGS APPLY - Non-Con
> 
> *Please do not read this chapter if you are triggered by non-con in fiction. If you would prefer to skip over but would like a summary, please ask.

Link sprinted along the corridor, fleeing the shadows that hounded him. The moon was rising in the sky, and the midnight hour was nearing. The conversation with the princess ran rings in his mind, each circuit drawing the memories further upward from their dank and fetid cells.

He banged into his rooms, panting. He had so much to do tomorrow, and now, he knew he would not sleep, not with this refreshed torment in his mind. He had to rest. He needed a dreamless sleep.

Shivering, he pulled Thoria’s face into his mind. Her half smile. Her easy laugh. The way her body moved as she climbed the apple tree, shaking loose the sweet, red fruit. It stilled the creeping shadows only a little.

He went to his drawers and dug inside, lifting free the secret compartment. Only one bottle of sleeping draught remained.

He tugged off his clothes, cradling the little bottle. It had been so long since he had needed it. He had been saving it, just in case. He needed it now more than ever. Link uncorked the bottle and threw the contents down his throat, grimacing at the taste. Almost instantly, the effects of the potion began to take hold, and he felt his eyes dragging closed, sleep grabbing the back of his head and pulling him down to the pillows.

A dreamless sleep. An escape from the nightmares. Perhaps when he woke, he would not remember. He would be better.

He slipped into slumber. But he began to dream.

Link shouldered open the heavy door, peering around it to check for ambush. The room appeared empty, and he edged inside.

The chamber was cavernous, the high ceiling held up by tall, thick pillars of grey stone. The same stone made up the floor and walls, and though Link could not see the ceiling for the shadows, he suspected it was the same. It smelled strange. Musty and dusty and cold, like all the dank, dark, forgotten places he had been to. But there was something else, too. A sharp scent that sent shivers down his spine. He shook his head like a wolf shakes off water. The smell was strong enough to make him dizzy.

The light from the torch pierced the darkness well enough, but Link moved to a nearby brazier and lit it, sighing with some relief as the old coals took and the room brightened. It was still empty, and Link crept forwards again, alert for any noise or movement.

Navi flew close to his shoulder, her light bright in the gloom. The tinkling of her wings sounded in his ear, as soft as shuffling feathers. As he crept on, something appeared in the darkness.

Link approached, seeing a stone alter of some sort. It was chest height, and tilted somewhat, as though it was meant to have a book placed upon it. Of course! The book he was here to find, that must be it. The book must be here somewhere in the temple, perhaps he would have to fight something to get it…

He inspected the alter more closely, placing his torch in a nearby holder. The stone was worn, but it seemed as though letters were carved into the surface. Link wasn’t sure, but he suspected it was Ancient Hylian text, something he couldn’t read, even if the letters weren’t so worn…

He ran his fingers over the surface, feeling for any irregularity. He grinned as his fingers stumbled upon something that felt like scratches in the stone. Picking up his torch, he found them and saw the scratches were words.

 _Look behind you_.

Link jumped and dropped the torch, his hand flying to his sword as Navi uttered a piercing shriek and fled. Before he could get a grip on the hilt, he felt a tremendous force slam into him from behind. Something seized his wrists and pinned them to the alter before him.

“So, we meet again…” a cool, mocking voice said.

Link went cold. _No, it couldn’t be_ …

“You!” he gasped. “You’re dead!”

Behind him, his shadow chuckled. “Never dead, so long as there is light to create my form. Never slain, so long as you walk in the sun.” His shadow gripped his wrists tighter.

“Get off!” Link snarled, struggling against the darkness behind him. As he fought, he saw the shadows gripping his wrists begin to take form, turning into strong, white hands.

“Why should I?” his shadow whispered, lips close to his ear. A lock of black hair fell into Link’s vision, and he snapped his head back, aiming for the shadow behind him. But the shadow evaded the blow with apparent ease.

“Get… OFF!” Link shouted. He tried to fling his elbow back, but couldn’t move for the hands pinioning his wrists.

“Hush,” his shadow said. “You don’t want to awaken the other creatures that dwell here, do you? Not while you are so… _exposed_.”

Something in his shadow’s voice chilled Link to the bone. He struggled harder. Though he couldn’t see, he knew his shadow’s eyes were glowing red.

Link flinched as cold, iron manacles began to snake their way up the alter and clasped themselves onto his wrists. Link jerked, but could not free himself. His shadow snickered behind him, and undid the straps that held his weapons to his body.

“No need for these,” he said, as they clattered to the floor.

“What are you doing?” Link snarled. He tried to turn, but could barely see over his shoulder. He caught a glimpse of his shadow moving behind him.

“Getting my revenge,” his shadow said, indifferently. “It was exquisitely painful when you slaughtered me, and in such cold blood too! I tell you, my master was not happy with me at all for allowing you to escape.”

“That was hundreds of years ago!”

“It was. I spent a long, long time thinking of this,” his shadow purred in his ear. His voice was so like his own. But his voice had never held such contempt, such coldness, such malice.

“Fight me properly,” Link growled. “Not like a coward.”

“I have no intention of that,” his shadow said. “You bested me last time, and I won’t have that happen again.”

Link clenched his jaw. “So, kill me and have done with it.”

He felt the shadow pause behind him. He sensed his gaze.

“Oh, my. I said I wanted revenge. What on earth made you think I was going to kill you?”

Link’s blood turned to ice. _Torture._ He struggled against the chains. “Take these off me and face me like a man!” he said.

“But I’m not a man,” his shadow said. “At least, not really.”

The shadow came close behind him and Link tensed, waiting for what was to come. Would his shadow cut him? Burn him? Break each of his bones slowly as he screamed into the dark? Would he…

Link flinched and tugged at his bonds. His shadow’s hands had slid around him to the front of his tunic. Link tried to twist away. “What…?”

He tried to strike the shadow as the hands moved further down, under the tunic, to his belt.

“Get off!” Link yelped, struggling. “You sick fuck!”

The shadow chuckled, low in his throat. “That I am. You will remember this. This will scar you more than any torture I could invent. And you will live to remember it.” He leaned closer. “And the best part? You’re going to ask me to do it. No, you’re going to _beg_ me.”

Deftly, pale hands undid the buckle and Link felt his trousers loosen, and begin to slide down his hips.

“Don’t you dare,” he growled. “I’ll kill you.”

“Yes, I’m sure you’ll try,” his shadow said. Link felt it move close to his ear again. It nipped. Link snarled and jerked away, as far as he could. As he turned, he finally saw the face.

It was a mirror of his own, save where his skin was olive, the other’s was deathly white. The eyes were red where his was blue, and glowed with an ethereal fire. The hair was jet black, and it was clad in shadows that made a mockery of his outfit. Link slammed his head forwards, trying to knock the other out. But his shadow evaded the blow.

“Now, now,” he tutted. “Save your energy. You’ll need it.”

“No…!” Link felt a strong hand on his spine, pushing him down, against the alter. His trousers were tugged roughly, pulling them down his thighs. In a flash, Link knew what his shadow intended to do.

“No!” he cried again, panic creeping into his voice. “Don’t!” he struggled violently, to no avail.

“As much as your fighting will make this better for me,” came his shadow’s cool voice, “I would recommend you relax for the moment.”

Link snarled in response, and fought harder against the manacles. His shadow sighed, almost in resignation. “I warned you.”

Link felt something press against him. A hand was on his hip, the other somewhere else, guiding the something against him. He froze, then tensed his legs, clenching his muscles together. His shadow tutted, and thumped Link in the back. Link yelped as his knees gave way, and snarled as two hands seized him roughly about the hips, lifting him.

Link struggled and fought and cursed and screamed, but he could not get free. His shadow laughed as he cried out in agony. He whispered something oily, his cruel lips hissing poison, and Link’s strength left him, leaving his mind fogged and his muscles weak.

Still he fought, but it was only with half a heart. Through the haze of pain and humiliation, he could feel his body responding in the worst way. His mind rebelled, screaming at him as he cursed his shadow, begging him to fight harder, to shake off the chains, to draw his sword and strike the foul head from shadowed shoulders.

But he couldn’t. No matter how he tried, it was as if something else was controlling him, drawing gasps from his lips and moans from low in his throat. The further from control his body slid from his mind, the more his shadow laughed.

Link screamed inside his own head, begging for it to stop, still fighting as the shadows crept into his mind, pleading with the Divines to help him. But all that made it from his brain to his throat was one terrible word.

“ _Please…”_

His shadow’s laugh was sickening in its victory. His movements became swifter and more violent, and all Link could do was retreat further and further inside his own head, cringing away in shame and horror as his body played willingly into his shadow’s hands.

It took far too long for his ordeal to be over, as his body finally gave up, and his shadow chuckled triumphantly. He withdrew. Cowering inside his head, Link flinched, awaiting more torture, something else, something normal. Anything was better than this. He tried to clench his fists, waiting for the battle that was sure to follow. He was in no condition to fight, but what did that matter now? Death, surely, was preferable.

Footsteps sounded behind him, and a soft, dark chuckle.

“Look at the mess you’ve made!” the shadow said. “Remember this. Every memory of this will break you. _You wanted this_.”

And then he was gone. The manacles disappeared and Link dropped to the floor with a yelp. The cold of the stone on his legs jolted him back to reality, the fog scattering away, a whirlwind of vivid memories crashing down about his head.

He felt bile rise in his throat as he scrabbled to pull his clothes back up. There was something wet at the back of him, and when he looked, he found his hand smeared with blood. He swore, softly, and then pitched to the side, violently ejecting the contents of his stomach as the realisation of what had happened thundered through his mind. He shivered, his stomach cramping, his mind awash with horror. He pressed his back to the alter, eyes darting about the gloom as he trembled. He clutched his head. He wanted to rake his nails along his skin, to claw the unclean flesh from his bones.

In the darkness, he shivered, huddled against the stone.

After an age, he found his feet, and he noticed Navi’s light bobbing towards him through the gloom.

“What happened?” the fairy squeaked. “I went to hide like you tell me to, and…”

He felt his stomach curdle again, his legs weak with fear and disgust.

“Nothing, Navi,” Link said. He picked up his weapons and strapped them back to his body. His abdomen ached, and he tried to shut it out, dizzy with revulsion. “Just another battle. I’m fine.”

“You’re bleeding!”

“No more than usual,” Link murmured, as he limped towards the door. Something told him there would be no treasure to be found here. Only nightmares.

XXXXXXX

Link jerked awake with a cry, lashing out at the shadows in front of him. He scrambled back, hit the headboard, and tumbled onto the floor. He flipped onto his back, hands up, ready to fend off his evil double and his sick, twisted tricks…

That he had wanted.

There was no one else in the room. Link sat up, slowly, and put his head in his hands. Over and over he tried to deny it. To tell himself that what happened was out of his control. But the way his body had responded, the way he had given in so easily…

He drew a shaky breath. It was just a nightmare. Another nightmare of another battle, one that he didn’t win. He shook his head and cursed. He would be awake the rest of the night now, kept awake by visions and memories, tormenting him from the edge of his mind.

His shoulders shook as his eyes burned.

“Gods damn you,” he whispered into the blackness. “Gods damn you.”


	69. 69 - Link

After a while, Link rose, his breathing steady. There would be no more sleep tonight. He glanced out of the window at the crescent moon, judging the time to be the middle of the night.

He dressed slowly, unwilling to light a candle that would send shadows dancing along the walls. All it would take over the next few days was to catch a glimpse of his own silhouette, and he would flinch and cower, afraid that the dark side of himself had come back for more. He never had, but Link was still afraid. It would take time before he could relax again.

Dressed, he moved for the door. Perhaps he would steal down to the kitchens and filch a leftover pastry or pie, and climb to the roof of the castle to eat. Perhaps he would walk the corridors a while, the guards left him be if he went for a nightly stroll. He could go to the armoury, and sharpen the blade he kept to such a keen edge he could use it to shave.

He allowed his feet to decide the route, his mind full of dark things. He couldn’t decide what was worse. The fact that it had happened, the fact that his body had _wanted_ it, or the fact that it was still impacting his life, over a year later. His sleep had never been more broken. He had never before jumped at shadows on the wall. Never before had he had trouble loving a woman, even if they were only brief, stolen nights with some tavern wench or farm girl he was never likely to see again.

He walked slowly, and he met no guards. Thoria had been right, the security of the castle was unimpressive. He should mention it to Zelda. She would increase the guard and keep them all safe.

And what if the worst was to happen? What if the castle was besieged, or Ganon returned? Would it be the guards who Zelda trusted to put an end to it all? Would it be General Balla, or Captain Marco, or some poor stable boy who was good with a sword who would stand against the darkness?

No. it would be him. Again, and again, in this life or the next, it would be he or his spirit-kin that took that burden upon their shoulders. And it would be they who were cursed with the memories of half-a-hundred lifetimes, half-a-hundred deaths. Perhaps he would be bound to the earth as his Shade was once before, doomed to exist in limbo until a new Hero arose, and the cycle would repeat itself, again and again and again.

He slowed to a stop in the dark corridor. He took a breath and looked up. He was outside Thoria’s room. He stared at the dark wood a long time, long enough for the light of the moon to shift an inch across the stone walls. He raised a hand, and knocked.

There was silence within. Link waited a moment, and was about to leave, when he heard movement behind the door. It opened, and Thoria stood there, her hair wild and unbrushed, in her favourite satin shirt. Her expression, at first bemused, turned to surprise, and concern.

“Link?” she opened the door wider. “What’s up?”

“I need to talk to you,” he said, stepping forwards and closing the door behind them.

XXXXXXX

He told her everything. It had taken a while to find the words, sitting on the edge of her bed, while she brushed out her hair and looked at him with those soft, green eyes, almost black in the dark room. He had refused candles, and Thoria had not asked why.

When the words came, they were at first halting, a small trickle of sound. Before long, they began to stream, and then flood, a torrent of speech that pierced the silence. He kept his voice low, but he found he could not stop talking. The mission given by Zelda, the temple he had found, and what he had encountered there. Returning home, bruised and broken, to find that the book Zelda had wanted had been in the library all along.

By the time he finished, the sky was lightening from a deep black to a navy blue. Thoria had not spoken at all. His throat dry, Link filled a glass from the pitcher by the bed, to find something to do with his hands more than to soothe his throat. After a moment, Thoria rose and came to sit next to him. She took his hand, gently.

“Thank you for telling me,” she said. “That must have been difficult for you.”

Link said nothing. It seemed as though all the words he could have said in a year had been said in those last few hours, and he found he could talk no more.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Thoria said, quietly. “Don’t blame yourself.”

“I don’t blame myself for it happening,” Link said, his voice hoarse. He rubbed his eyes, and was surprised to find his cheeks were wet. He hadn’t realised he had cried. “I blame myself for…”

Thoria shook her head, vehemently. “No. No, I will not accept you believing you wanted that.”

Link frowned. “But, I…”

“You were being tortured,” Thoria said, and Link was surprised to hear a dark note in her voice. He looked up, and her eyes were full of fury. “ _You were being tortured_. People will say or do anything to make pain stop. What happened to you was not your fault. Your body did what it had to, to survive.” She gripped his chin, her fingers surprisingly strong. “Do you understand me?”

Link felt his eyes brim again and he tried to look away, but Thoria held him firm.

“It was not your fault,” she said again. “Say it back to me.”

“Thoria,” Link pulled away, and she allowed it. “You don’t understand.”

Thoria rose, her eyes flashing. “Don’t I? What if I told you something like this had happened to me?”

Link balked, leaning away. The rage emanating from her was so strong he could almost feel it, a strange heat that seemed to shimmer in the air. Thoria noticed, and relaxed, with obvious effort.

“I will not pretend to know exactly what it is you’ve been through,” she said. “I have never lived your life. But I have experienced something similar. Please, Link. Believe me when I tell you that you are to blame for _none_ of it. Not for being there, not for being caught, and certainly not for your body reacting in the only way it could to protect you from further harm.”

She knelt in front of him and took his hand again. “Please say it back to me. It wasn’t your fault.”

Link swallowed. The words seemed to stick in his throat. Thoria rubbed the back of his hand with her thumb, tracing the faint lines of the Triforce. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“I-it… it wasn’t my fault.” Link said, at last, and hung his head, as a great, iron grip around his heart seemed to lessen, and he felt, for the first time in years, that he could breathe again.

XXXXXXX

He lay next to Thoria as the dawn light began to smudge the horizon. He was not asleep, and he knew she was not either. He didn’t want to talk, it was enough to lie beside her, his arms around her middle, his face buried in her hair. It was enough to feel her breathing next to him, someone who did not judge him for his failures. Someone who would still lie beside him, and treat him the same way as she had before.

There had been no caution in her movements as she had pulled him to her, no flinching away or recoiling as he cried against her shoulder. When he was so tired from it all he could barely raise his head, she had lifted him, arms strong around his back, and laid him down. She had curled beside him as he pretended to sleep, but he was too tired even for that.

So, he lay in a daze, the room brightening around them. With the coming light, sleep slid even further from him. He stirred, unwilling to get up. Here, he was comfortable, cocooned from the outside world and all the horrors that lay beyond.

After a while, Thoria stretched, looping a hand over her shoulder to stroke the back of his neck. She turned to him, and the tip of her nose brushed his.

“Did you sleep?”

“Some.”

“Liar.”

“Did you?”

“Barely.” She smiled, and kissed him softly. Link froze, astonished that such a soft touch could so suddenly drain the blood from his hands and redirect it. Thoria quirked an eyebrow and smiled, gently. She moved as though to kiss him again, but Link pulled away.

“I’m sorry,” he said, quietly. “It’s not you. I want to, but… since…” he looked away. “I haven’t been with anyone since then. I’ve tried, but it’s always been the same. _He_ breaks into my mind. And then I can’t.”

“That’s okay,” Thoria said. “I won’t make you.” She shifted, one hand resting on his hip. “But… if you want to try…?”

The question hung in the air. Link couldn’t meet her eyes. After a beat, she laid her head back on the pillow, her smile soft and unexpectant.

Link took a breath. He wanted to. Desperately. But the alter hung on the fringes of his mind. He closed his eyes and tried to calm himself.

“He won’t let me,” he said, quietly.

“He’s not the boss of you,” she said. “Don’t let him rule your life. He wins if you do.”

She stretched under the covers and curled back into him. Her fingers brushed his cheek.

“I’ll never make you do anything you don’t want,” she said. “This is something you have to do in your own time. There’s no hurry.” She settled down, the tip of her nose touching his, her eyes closing, her fingers on his cheek.

Link took a slow breath. She was right. With each flash of memory that made him recoil from her, his shadow won. Denying him what he wanted, refusing to allow him to be with someone he loved. Each time he allowed it, his shadow kept control over his life. He set his jaw. No more.

Link leaned forwards and kissed her. Thoria stiffened, then relaxed. His lips were soft against hers at first, then more passionate. Thoria leaned into him, and he took her hand from his face, moving it down, along his chest, his stomach, and further still. She broke the kiss and looked him dead in the eyes.

“Are you sure?”

Link nodded, wordlessly, and leaned back into her.


	70. 70 - Link

Link opened his eyes to an unfamiliar ceiling. It took a moment to remember why he was not in his own bed, his shoulders stiffening. But then the memories came back, and he relaxed, rolling onto his side to wrap his arms around Thoria, her skin warm against his. He buried his face in her hair.

She had been so _gentle_. Almost too gentle, almost as though she was worried her soft touch would bring his shadow back into his mind. And, although the dark side of himself roared and bit and slashed at him from within, Link pushed him away, focusing on the woman next to him, his lips pressed against hers. His stomach fluttered as he remembered, and he could not keep the smile from his face.

She stirred, and rolled over, the tip of her nose brushing his. Her eyes closed, she smiled her half smile and nuzzled his cheek.

“Good morning,” he murmured. She grunted, tucking herself closer.

“No talky,” she mumbled. “Sleep. Sleep good.”

He couldn’t help but agree. But he kept his eyes open, gazing at her, not daring to believe his good fortune. At last, his curse was broken. At last, he could be with her, and no longer worry that his inadequacy and failures would drive her from him.

He felt lighter than he had in years. It seemed as though an iron chain hand been wound around his neck, draped across his shoulders, and now it was gone. He stretched, feeling a new energy course through him. Thoria mumbled in protest as he sat up and swung his feet over the edge of the bed.

“We should do something,” he said. “Go out somewhere. Get out of the castle.”

“Mmph,” Thoria said, her face buried in the pillow.

“Anywhere you like,” Link continued, finding his trousers and struggling into them. “Anywhere in Hyrule. Though… not too far, Zelda would wonder where we’ve gone… there’s a decent bakery in town, or there’s this game, where you have to shoot targets. You can win a lot of rupees.”

Thoria raised her head and gazed at him through half lidded eyes.

“Why are you getting dressed?”

“So we can go do something,” Link replied, sweeping the room for his tunic.

“No need to go anywhere,” she said. She reached out and grabbed the hilt of his trousers, pulling him back down. It didn’t take long for him to figure out what she meant.

XXXXXXX

Night had fallen before hunger finally drove them from her bed. Link ambled beside Thoria, his mind hazy with echoes of joy.

He grinned as they entered the kitchens. It was quiet inside, and dark, the cooks and servants elsewhere. They raided the cabinets and stores, finally retreating, arms laden with food, to their alcove.

They ate without the need for words. Link was content to sit and remember, each vivid memory sending a thrill through him. Thoria leaned against his arm, and he watched her fingers deftly pry apart a pomegranate, watched as she used the nail on her smallest finger to scoop out the tiny seeds. The patience with which she dismembered the fruit echoed her every being. No one had ever taken the time that she had to truly get to know him, to find the chinks in his armour, to begin to heal him.

The stone was hard under him, and cold against his back. But he thought in that moment he could not possibly be happier. She was here, with him. She had not run from him like he feared. She had shown nothing but kindness,.

With her help, he had overcome his greatest demons. With Thoria by his side, he felt that he could take on the world. He could face all his fears, he could even face Gannon with nothing but a slingshot in his hand, and he would succeed. He wanted to jump and dance and shout, declaring his love for her at the top of his voice.

But he couldn’t.

Zelda would be furious. Furious, and afraid. She still believed in the prophecy, the one that suggested dark times would come to Hyrule. She still believed that Thoria would be the cause. He looked down at her now, her raven hair still tangled, a red mark on her collarbone from his teeth. He twisted his mouth in a wry smile. She had responded with a bite of her own, one that was not painful, but had drawn a cry from his lips all the same.

He shook himself. Now, more than ever, they had to keep their relationship a secret. It was a blessing that Navi seemed to have vanished once again, no doubt sulking in the fae realm. Without her prying eyes and loose tongue, he and Thoria would be better able to hide what they had from the world.

He knew it would have to come out sooner or later. But he had to keep Thoria safe. If the princess suspected something was happening between them, she would separate them. Thoria would be forced to spend her days with a guard or five, and he would not see her. She would be bored witless, and his heart would ache for her.

And what if someone else fell for her, whilst they were guarding her? Link sat straighter and put his arm around Thoria’s shoulders. She snuggled in and favoured him with a soft kiss. He held her tightly. No one else would get this close to her. He could not risk it. Even if she was devoted to him, he knew what the average guard was like. Brutish. Slow-witted. Enamoured with whores. Liable to just take what they wanted.

He glowered into the dark. He couldn’t let that happen. They would be secret together, and safe.

XXXXXXX

The next week revealed a world to Link that he would never have thought possible. Though he and Thoria were frequently exhausted, the kingdom seemed to have taken on more colour, and he delighted in showing her more of the castle, the town, and the surrounding lands. Frequently, they rode across Hyrule fields, and Link showed her where he had fought various battles, detailing not just a clinical account, but describing how he had felt at the time, as well. Thoria, as ever, listened attentively and patiently, and he found himself talking more than he had done in years, sometimes for hours at a stretch. With each word, he felt freed, finally able to share his life with someone who saw him as more than just a Hero.

One morning, he rode with her to a nondescript patch of field outside the town’s borders.

Link swung down from the saddle, reaching to help Thoria, before she hopped down from Epona’s saddle herself.

She looked about, nodding.

“Another battle?” she asked.

“Am I that predictable?” he responded, smiling.

“No, I can… feel it,” she said. She gestured. “It’s like the air is thicker. It feels… odd. Wrong. And look,” she pointed. “The grass is longer here. Undisturbed. Like the animals are avoiding it, too.”

“There was a battle,” Link said. “The biggest of this era.”

Thoria turned to him. “Was this where you fought Ganon?”

Link nodded. “A decade ago, today.”

He sank to the ground, crossing his legs. Thoria joined him, her knee touching his.

“Not all of my memories had come back by then,” he said. “I only had fleeting glimpses, things that felt more like half-remembered dreams. But I remembered him. Ganondorf.”

Link took a breath and recounted the tale. How he had appeared, holding Midna’s helmet. Crushing it in his fist. The horror, the agony of losing his friend. Riding across the Fields with Zelda behind him, firing arrows at the dark king. The final, great battle, crossing swords with the giant, and finally slaying him in single combat.

“It’s the strangest thing,” Link said, staring at his hands. “He got up. With the Master Sword in his chest, he stood, and cursed us. I thought I’d failed, that he was going to just… take it out and throw it away, and we’d keep fighting. But then he just… stopped. And died.”

“Standing?”

“Standing. It almost felt wrong, pulling the sword out. But he was dead. We made sure. He was burned, so that his spirit would be scattered like ash.”

Thoria shivered beside him. “What about the Triforce of Power?”

Link shrugged. “No one knows. It left him, that much is clear.”

“Well, he’s gone now, thanks to you,” Thoria bumped his shoulder with her palm. “No more darkness. No more evil.”

Link gave a dark laugh.

“There’s always evil,” he said. “And Ganon will find a way to return. He always does. It’s part of Demise’s curse.”

“Hmph.” Thoria shook out her hair. “If he shows his face again I’ll kick his arse.”

Link laughed. “I believe you would.” He threw a glance over his shoulder and stole a swift, deep kiss. “But it would do no good. It’s the Spirit of the Hero who has to fight him. Always. Forever, through time.”

“Is there a way to break the curse?” Thoria took his hand, resting in the grass. “You killed him, after all.”

Link shrugged again. “I’ve killed him half a hundred times, in half a hundred lives. If there was a way, Zelda would have found it by now.”

“Well, he’s not allowed to come back,” Thoria announced. “Not while I’m here. He won’t touch you so long as I’m around. I’m not having it.”

Link chuckled and laid his head on her shoulder. “He would cower before you.”

“Damn right.” Thoria gazed about the Fields, and rested her head on his. “There’s a bit of a private spot a little way back. Looked interesting.”

Link hesitated. “Someone might be watching.”

“All the way out here?” she turned to him and ran her fingers along his jaw, pulling his face to hers. Her kiss was passionate, and his thoughts became almost singular at her touch.

“We need to be careful,” he said, breathlessly.

“Who’s going to be out here?” she murmured. “We can always go back to the castle, if you like. Were we’re sure to find somewhere. Or…?”

Link met her gaze and found that her eyes were full of mischief. He knew it was a chance he couldn’t miss, and he didn’t need convincing to rise and run with her, Epona trotting behind them. Her arms were strong, and her lips were soft. With Epona keeping her back deliberately turned, he fell into her with abandon, knowing in his very soul that Ganon would not trouble him again, in this lifetime. 


	71. 71 - Zelda

Zelda flung a handful of parchment aside, her quill skittering across a blotchy scroll. Frenzied, she swept her hair back from her face, not caring that it was coming loose from her bun, not caring that her gloves were splattered with ink, not caring that her shoulders burned from hunching.

There was nothing, _nothing_ in her Library, her scrolls, even her private collection, that suggested she could change the law without her father’s consent. Furious, she dropped her quill and screwed up the parchment, tossing it in the direction of the fireplace. She rose, her shoulders zinging in protest, and stomped to her window.

The sky was overcast, crouching over the kingdom. Below, sludgy piles of leaves lined the pathways, and Zelda’s frown deepened. The autumn leaves were nothing but litter, spoiling the prettiness of her gardens, which now looked bare and forlorn, the trees like half-plucked cuccos, starved and scabby-looking. She would have to instruct Impa to scold the gardeners.

But Impa was not with her. She had left on an urgent errand following a messenger dove from one of her Sheikah. She had not divulged the details of the message, and had burned it before Zelda could ask. She knew better than to press the Sheikah, she knew she would not get an answer. Curiosity burned within her, and it was all she could do not to order the older woman to explain herself.

She strode about her room. The lack of autonomy over her own married life was not even the most galling thing. She had only managed to discover a few ancient scrolls that contained information about the Triforce of Power. Most accounts of the holy relic were centred around Ganondorf’s attainment and abuse of it, or of it as a part of the whole, completed Triforce. It seemed, as with her own Triforce, and the Triforce of her darling Hero, that the relic chose them, as opposed to the other way around.

Zelda cursed her fate, not for the first time. Her triforce was so weak in comparison to the other two. Wisdom was something anyone could gain, if they were studious and intelligent enough. What had it granted her? Her visions and prophecies were down to her divine blood, surely? Did she only house a piece of the Triforce to keep it safe from Ganondorf? Was she merely a gatekeeper, not good enough to wield the full might of the Triforce itself?

She glared at the ground, her face twisting. She was the Goddess Hylia’s descendent, for Din’s sake! Surely, out of all three of them, her, Link and Ganon, _she_ was the one most fit to wield the relic? Ganon was nothing but a reincarnation of an emotion, of Demise’s hatred, and Link was… perfect, yes, but he was an old soul that housed himself in new bodies. Surely that experience was enough, and he didn’t need his piece anymore?

Not that she would ever take it from him. Zelda took a breath and closed her eyes. He deserved to be a part of this cycle, for no other could ever be so strong, so noble, so courageous. He would unite with her, combining wisdom and courage, if only she could find a way! And then, they would take power together.

But… it was impossible. And it seemed impossible to take power by herself. No matter how she longed for it, longed to feel the thunder at her fingertips once more, the crackling energy, the sizzling heat of pure might, it was just not possible.

The memories seemed different to her, now. Not so long ago, the memory of Ganondorf possessing her and filling her with power had made her cringe, shying away from the pure awesome might of it, wailing in pain. But now, now she knew she had been wrong. The power was not painful, she was just unaccustomed to it. It was not a scary thing. Yes, her triforce was weak, but she could use it to temper the power, to make it manageable, to shield her from the temptation.

Standing at her fireplace, which glowed with low, flickering flames to ward off the autumn chill, she ran her hand over the carved marble of the mantlepiece, gliding her fingers over her figurines. She touched her ornament of the goddesses, pressing the crack on Nayru’s arm, willing it to seal itself, for the imperfection to vanish. But the crack grew under the pressure of her fingers, and she whipped her hand away, cursing softly under her breath.

Sighing, Zelda returned to the window, flopping onto the cushion there. She folded her hands in her lap and looked out over the land. It would do her no good to pine over the loss of power. She would discover a way to find it, and use it. Then surely, surely the goddesses would smile upon her. In her possession, the Triforce of Power would never again fall into the hands of Ganondorf or his like, and with Courage by her side…

She smiled. She could not help but imagine him there with her, imagine that it was his chest she leaned on, not the cold stone wall, pretending his arms were around her.

One day, it would be the way she dreamed, the way she wanted. One day, the laws would change, and Link would once again be by her side, not as her Chosen Knight, but as her husband, her king.

But first, she had to do something about that damnable stranger. Her Mage had still not returned, and Zelda had begun to feel that he was dead, not missing. Her smile soured. She could do nothing about it, for if she brought Lady Thoria to trial, she would have to admit that she had commissioned the Mage of Shadows to remove her, against her father’s wishes. She would be disgraced, and would suffer King Rhoam’s wrath. She shuddered at the thought. Besides. She could not prove it was the stranger who had killed the Mage.

Her assassins had also failed her. Though she was not surprised, they were mere hedge knights, cheap mercenaries down on their luck, searching for a little wealth. None could stand against her dear Link, so stoic and strong. Such a shame that he was forced to guard this woman.

Zelda gazed down at the greying, bare gardens, longing to see him. If only she had the Triforce of Power. Then she would be able to right the wrongs of the kingdom, expel this stranger, and make Link her own. But she could not. It was not her destiny. She would simply have to find another way.

She held the Triforce of Wisdom. Surely, it was good for something. She would have to use her brain to find a way, if the laws of the kingdom and the goddesses were against her.


	72. 72 - Link

“A messenger has arrived for you, Ser Link,” the herald proclaimed.

“What’s the message?” Link asked, around a mouthful of bacon. Thoria watched the exchange impassively, holding her teacup with her little finger curved in the air.

“He insisted on giving you the message himself,” the herald sniffed. “He is waiting in the entrance hall.”

“Alright,” Link said. “I’ll be there in a minute. Would you ask him to wait?”

“I am _not_ your messenger boy,” the herald said.

“But you are bound by royal law to carry messages,” Thoria said, softly. She didn’t look at the herald as she spoke. “Be a lamb and do your job.”

The herald swelled like a ripe plum, and for a moment, Link was afraid he might burst. But he spun on his heel and marched from the Great Hall, feathered hat flopping as he went.

“You do have the singularly acute ability to annoy everybody at some point, don’t you?” Link said, as Thoria sipped her tea. She smiled at him over the rim of her cup.

“ _Fìor_. It’s my mission in life to piss of every living being at least once,” she said.

“Even the king?”

Thoria chuckled. “Maybe on my deathbead.”

Link smiled back until she hooked one of her feet under his own and rested his boot on her ankle under the floor-length table cloth. He shifted and pulled away.

“Not here,” he said. “Someone might be watching.”

Thoria closed her eyes a fraction longer than a blink. “Alright,” she said. “I’ll keep my hands to myself until later.” She flashed a sultry look across the table at him, a look that spoke of all the things he was in store for once the sun had gone down. He became hard so fast he was surprised it didn’t hit the table. Thoria lifted her lip in a lazy half-smile and turned away.

Link finished his breakfast slowly, waiting for his blood to redirect itself back into safe territory, and together they rose from the table, taking a casual stroll to the entrance hall to find his messenger.

A few servants scampered along the walls, keeping out of the way of the centre of the long, wide hall, where nobles strutted and guards clanked their armour. In the middle of the throng, looking a little lost and more than a little awed, was…

“Colin!” Link cried, leaping forward. Colin turned at the sound of his name, and his face split into a wide, welcoming smile.

“Link!” he called, pulling Link towards him and into a tight embrace. “It’s so good to see you!”

“And you as well! What are you doing here?” Link stepped back and looked the younger man up and down. His beard had grown in, covering the lower part of his face with thick blonde hair, making him look older than he was. He was dressed for the road, in worn travelling boots and cloak, with a pack on his back and a sword at his hip. Link frowned. “You’re not still thinking about joining the soldiers, are you?”

“I am,” Colin admitted, a glint of defiance in his eyes. Link stared. A long time ago, Colin had been terrified of swords, horrified at the thought of fighting. What had changed in the last decade to make such a gentle soul want to fight? Link fought off a sigh. It was him. It was always him. The poor boy had idolised him growing up. No wonder he wanted to ‘do his part’ for the kingdom.

“That’s not why I’m here.” Colin continued. He paused as Thoria approached, a curious smile on her face.

“Hi. I’m Thoria,” she said, sticking out her hand.

“Colin,” he replied, taking her hand and looking her up and down. “Are you...?”

“A friend of Link’s,” she said. “I’m guessing you’re the same?”

“I am.” Colin offered a guarded smile. “Link, if this… is a bad time?”

“No, it’s not,” Link said, glancing at Thoria. She smiled.

“I’ll be in the Library,” she said. “All day if I have to be.” Without waiting for an answer, she winked at the pair of them and sashayed towards the stairs, her hips swinging from side to side. Link watched her go, his mouth a little dry.

“Well,” Colin said. “I think I know why you don’t visit so often.”

“Hm?” Link turned around. “What do you mean?”

Colin grinned. “If I had someone as beautiful as that in Ordon, I wouldn’t want to leave either.”

“We’re not together,” Link said quickly, glancing over his shoulder for nosy nobles. “I am escorting her on royal orders.”

“What a shame,” Colin said, still grinning. “Forced to spend time with someone so lovely.” He began to move back outside, Link falling into step beside him. “Tell me, is her personality as pretty as her face? Or is she dull and as thick as Fado?”

“She’s amazing,” Link said, absently. He caught Colin’s grin. “Shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Colin laughed. “Come on. Let’s go to town. I’m famished.”

“We could eat here,” Link said. “They don’t mind if I raid the kitchens. Mallory practically encourages it.”

Colin shook his head, eyeing the splendorous castle about him. “I would, but I find this to be a little daunting. You never said how _big_ the castle is.”

“I guess I’m used to it.”

XXXXXXX

They journeyed into Castle Town, Link pulling his cloak tight about himself and raising his hood. Colin didn’t comment when he lowered his head and led them through a series of side alleys to Telma’s bar. Inside was warm and smoky, a fire burning merrily in the grate.

“Hello, honey!” Telma called. “Who’s this handsome young chap?”

Colin blushed as Link made introductions and ordered two meals for them both, before retreating to a secluded table. Cupping mugs of hot, spiced cider, Colin let out a sigh as the weight left his feet.

They made energetic small talk, Link desperate for news of home. Colin, for his part, was enamoured with Castle Town, and begged Link to take him on a tour.

“You know Talo has proposed to Beth?” Colin said, tearing into his half loaf as Telma set their plates down with a wink, her enormous chest almost battering Link about the head as she gave him a friendly kiss on the cheek. Link grinned.

“That doesn’t surprise me,” he said. “From what I saw before, I’ve never seen two people so in love. They’re perfect for each other!”

“That’s what we all thought,” Colin agreed. “They’re keeping things very traditional, so there won’t be a wedding until the summer. Talo’s going to make his pilgrimage to the four Springs of Light soon.”

Link twisted his mouth. “He’s better going now, or waiting until after winter,” he said. “It’s easier when the kingdom’s not covered in three feet of snow.”

“Tell him that,” Colin shrugged. “He wants to go at the right time, so it will be in the middle of winter. He’s already started training for it. He’ll be fine. Dad’s been showing him a few things.”

“And Beth?”

“She’s not quite so religious. But she’ll do her part and pray to Hylia for Talo.” Colin gave him a deep look over his tankard. “You’ll be there? For the wedding?”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Link said, and he meant it. It was something to look forward to, seeing his childhood friends tie their wrists and exchange rings.

“Will you bring that lady of yours? Thoria?” Colin asked. Link looked away.

“I told you, she’s not mine,” he said. The lie was bile on his tongue. Surely he could tell Colin? But he glanced about the bar. A couple of soldiers were seated across the room. They were engrossed in their own conversation, but that didn’t mean they weren’t listening. He couldn’t risk it. “But sure. I don’t see why she shouldn’t come.”

“Excellent,” Colin grinned. “Just… ask her to put a bit of mud on her nose or something. No one should outshine the beauty of the bride on her wedding day.”

Link chuckled. “No one ever could. A woman always looks the most beautiful when she’s genuinely happy. Thoria might put the beauty of the Divines to shame, but even she won’t be prettier than Beth when the day comes.”

Colin grinned at him over his tankard, and Link felt his ears grow hot. He cleared his throat and looked down, concentrating on his food. Before long, the plates were empty, and cleared from the table.

“So,” Colin said, scrubbing his mouth with the back of his hand. “Ilia.”

“Ilia?” Link said up straighter. “Is she alright?”

“I believe so,” Colin said. “I just wanted to… Uh…” he paused, looking decidedly sheepish. Link waited impatiently for him to continue, perched on the edge of his seat for news of his friend.

“Bo doesn’t let anyone take supplies to her,” Colin said. “No one knows exactly where she is except him. I know you asked about her, wanted to see her, so I chased Bo up about it. Asked if he’d checked with Ilia whether you could visit or not. He brushed me off.”

“That’s not like him,” Link said.

“It is,” Colin disagreed. “Ever since we all got kidnapped as kids, he got really over-protective of Ilia. I think he thinks he’s the only one who can protect her, and her going out and having a baby has only made him worse.”

Link frowned. “I bet she hates that.”

“I don’t think she has a choice,” Colin said. “He’s the only one she can rely on right now. She can’t leave to get food, she has nothing to trade, and she can’t work with a baby. But that’s beside the point.” Colin took a quick sip of ale. “I thought it was awful that she was stuck out wherever she was with no company but a baby and her father. I knew Bo wouldn’t let me, or anyone, visit. Not even Beth. So, I followed him.”

Link raised his eyebrows. The once shy and rule-abiding Colin had tailed the mayor of Ordon against explicit orders?

“It’s about an hour’s journey from the village,” Colin said, producing a small map. He pointed at a little circle drawn in the middle of Faron woods. “She’s really tucked away, hidden behind a cave that’s covered with a curtain of vines.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Link asked, pulling the map towards him. He fixed the circle in his mind, stamping the location on the map he carried in his head.

“Why d’you think?” Colin asked. “You’re her friend. She’s yours. I know she’d be happy to see you.”

Guiltily, Link remembered their last meeting. It would be good to explain. To rectify the situation, to right any wrongs done and soothe any hurts, no matter how embarrassing it was.

“Okay,” he said. “I’ll go see her.”

“Careful not to let Bo catch you,” Colin said. “I know he’s fond of you, but I wouldn’t put it past him to throw you in the river if he catches you with her.”

“When does he visit?” Link asked.

“Once every few days. I think he’s going again the day after tomorrow. You should get to her as soon as you can. See how she is. We’re all worried about her.”

XXXXXXX

Leaving Telma’s bar, Link dutifully took Colin on a whistle-stop tour of the town. As the sun began to descend, they said their farewells. Link pulled the younger man into a rough embrace at the gate.

“Give my love to everyone at home,” he said, clapping Colin on the shoulders. “And my promise that I’ll be there for the wedding.”

“I will,” Colin tightened his pack and ran his fingers over his sword. The cart driver gave a call, and Colin gave Link one last, quick hug and swung up onto the cart as the driver flicked the reins.

Link stood, watching, until the cart was out of sight.

Back at the castle, Link did not find Thoria in the Library. All he found was a single branch of silver fir, with a parchment star tied to it with green ribbon. Link grinned. He did not know the meaning of the plant, but the star made its meaning plain. Thoria would meet him at the astronomy tower.

He hurried along until he arrived, finding this to be empty as well, save for the flat, threadbare rug, diagrams, chair and telescope. He cocked his head and listened. Perhaps she was already on the roof, though they had begun to avoid it. The roof tiles were becoming slippery, and it was too cold to stay up there for long. Link approached the telescope, intending to climb up.

There was a thunk of wood on stone and he turned. Thoria was in the middle of the room, standing on the rumpled rug, brushing a cobweb from her sleeve. She gave him a winning smile and jumped to his side, greeting him with a deep kiss.

“Have you had a good day?” she asked, smoothing the rug with her foot.

“Yeah,” Link smiled down at her. “It was good to see Colin. I’ve missed him.”

He gave her a brief summary of his day, sliding down the wall to sit whilst Thoria perched on the chair, crossing her legs.

“I feel I need to see Ilia,” Link said, as he reached the end of his account. “It’s been well over a year. And… the way we parted last wasn’t… good. I want to set things right.”

“You should go, then,” Thoria said, with an easy shrug.

“But I need to stay with you,” he replied. “I’m guarding you, remember?”

“Amongst other things,” she quipped. He chuckled. Thoria tilted her head and propped her chin on her hand.

“I’m serious, _leannan_. You should go. It’ll eat you up inside otherwise. Besides, didn’t you tell Zelda she’s had a baby? And she said you can go?”

“I did, and she did,” Link said. “But…”

“No buts,” Thoria rose and offered her hand, pulling him to his feet. “You should go.”

“But I’ll miss you,” he said, then brightened. “You should come with me! I can show you round Ordon, introduce you to everyone…”

Thoria shook her head. “Nah. It would be odd for Ilia to meet me, don’t you think? Besides. This thing is between you two. You wouldn’t want me there in the background. Three’s a crowd, y’know?”

“You could stay with the others,” Link said. “I’m sure they’d be happy to-“

Thoria shut him up with a kiss, and Link found he didn’t mind a bit.

“They’d wonder where you’ve gone, and would look for you.” she said. “Colin could get in trouble. It’s easier if I stay here.”

Link mumbled a half-hearted complaint, but she was right. She smiled and pressed him to the wall, the tip of her nose to his.

“I’ve had an idea,” she whispered, her lips at his ear. They moved to his neck. “Every room in the castle.”

“Every room?” Link frowned, distracted. “What do you mean?” Her hands strayed, and realisation dawned. “Oh.”

She paused and looked at him. He grinned back.

“There’s a lot of rooms,” he said. Her smile became wicked.

“I know.”

He kissed her again, sinking deep. He broke away as she touched his face.

“Start here?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”


	73. 73 - Link

The next day saw Link riding hard over Hyrule Fields, heading for Faron Woods. He had spoken with Zelda the previous night, asking her permission to ride for Ordon. She had given it, on the condition that he spend no more than three days away. He had thanked her graciously, uncomfortable as her eyes crawled over his body. He was surprised she had allowed it, but her eyes seemed to brighten when he mentioned that Lady Thoria would not be joining him, and she had granted his wish almost instantly.

Arriving at the woods, Link dismounted and led Epona to Coro’s little cabin. A quick chat and an exchange of rupees saw her brushed and fed, and he entered the woods. The journey took all of half an hour, the mark on his mental map leading him to his destination quickly. The entrance to the tunnel was well hidden, and Link had to circle the area four times before he found it.

Link pushed aside the thick curtain of vines, holding his lantern aloft. The cave was really a tunnel, stretching back for only a few metres before opening out into a small, wooded clearing with a little wooden house in the middle of it.

Link crept forward. He couldn’t be sure that Bo wasn’t there, or on his way. He would have to be stealthy.

The house was more a cabin, built of thick pine logs lashed together with rope. It was a single storey high, with a sloping tin roof. A small vegetable patch was nearby, lovingly tended, and a carved bench sat under a large tree. He could hear, but not see, water running somewhere close by.

Link tiptoed out of the tunnel and approached the cabin. It seemed well-made enough, though he doubted it would be warm come the winter. The autumn was marching on, and the nights would become colder as time passed. At least the windows were plate glass and not just covered by curtains. The door was a simple wood panel with a net cloth covering the glass pane at head height. Link wondered, as he raised his hand to knock, just how long Bo had spent building this place.

He rapped his knuckles on the wood and waited. From inside, he could hear a baby grizzling. Ilia’s baby. He smiled. His friend was a mother! He wondered what the child looked like. Footsteps grew on the other side of the door, and through the gauzy cloth, Link could see the outline of someone who had stopped in their tracks upon seeing his silhouette.

“Shad?” Ilia’s voice was faint through the wood. Almost hopeful. Link blinked. Shad was in Castle Town, buried in his books. His neck prickled as Ilia’s form took a tentative step towards the door. Was _Shad_ the father of Ilia’s baby?

The latch clicked, and the door inched open. From inside, Ilia’s face peeped around. Her eyes went wide, and her mouth formed a small “O”.

“Link,” she said, opening the door wider. Then, her eyes rolled back, and she slumped. Link darted forwards and caught her before she hit the floor, her figure light in his arms.

“Why do you people always faint when you see me?” he grumbled, holding Ilia upright. Her eyelids flickered and opened, confusion crossing her features.

“Link?” she said again. And, with a small gasp, she flung her arms around his neck and began to sob.

XXXXXXX

“I’m sorry,” Ilia said, pouring tea into a chipped mug. “I don’t know what came over me.”

“It’s alright,” Link said, accepting the cup. He blew steam off the rim and gazed about the tiny cabin. It really was tiny, and very cluttered, though it was spotlessly clean. The room they were in was dominated by the kitchen counters and oven, leaving barely any room for the table at which they sat. A low sofa stood mere feet from them, two other doors hinting at a bedroom and a bathroom. From behind one of the doors, the baby still grizzled, softly.

“How long have you been here?” Link said, pulling his eyes back to Ilia. Her hair was longer than he remembered it ever being, tied back under a pink, patterned headscarf. She was slim as ever, though her face was puffy with tiredness, and her stomach hung a little loosely over the hem of her skirt. Link deliberately avoided looking at it.

“Since before Oka was born,” Ilia said, shrugging as though it was nothing. “I birthed him here, and I’ve been here ever since.”

“That’s terrible,” Link said. “You should be at home, with other people.”

To his surprise, Ilia shook her head.

“No. I wanted this. I… am ashamed that I have found myself in these circumstances. It’s better that I’m away from everyone until I can look after myself, and give the people time to accept Oka.”

“Ilia,” Link said. “You need to be around other people. No one’s going to care, they want what’s best for you! What if your baby gets sick? If Bo only visits once every few days-“

“I’m aware,” Ilia said, and Link was surprised to hear a note of steel in her voice. “Oka is _my_ baby, and I will raise him how I see fit. Neither he nor I are ready to join Ordon again.”

Link nodded, accepting the rebuke. “Are you angry with me for coming here?” he asked.

Ilia sighed. “No,” she said. “I’m surprised. Father said you had asked, and I said no. I wasn’t ready to see you. Not after…”

“I’m sorry about that,” Link said. “It was wrong of me to behave that way. I have no excuse. I-“

“I don’t care,” Ilia said, wearily. In the bedroom, the baby began to cry in earnest. Ilia rose without a word and slipped into the bedroom, leaving Link sitting at the table, listening to her soft, muffled voice under the bawling of the infant. After a moment, the crying lessened, then stopped, and Ilia came out, one arm crooked and a shawl draped over her shoulder and arm, covering one half of her chest. Under the shawl, a pair of minute feet stuck out, and soft suckling sounded.

“I don’t care,” Ilia repeated, resuming the conversation as if nothing had happened. “I was wrong for doing what I did, I should have seen that you did not think of me that way.”

“Ilia…”

“And it really isn’t a bad thing,” she said. “After you left, I went walking in the woods. I needed to clear my head. I met someone who was kind to me. And, after several meetings, I was blessed with Oka.” She did not look at Link as she spoke, her eyes fixed on something behind his head. But as she finished speaking, she levelled her gaze at him, as though daring him to challenge her.

“Shad,” Link said, and Ilia’s eyes widened. “You said his name when you came to the door.”

Ilia swallowed, and tilted her chin up. “I know you must think I’m crazy,” she said. “But he was kind to me. He listened to me when I was upset, and he gave me what I wanted, though it was ‘but a poor imitation,’ to use his words.”

Link shook his head. “Ilia, I’m having a hard time with this. I know Shad. And he doesn’t seem like the type to bed a woman out of wedlock, let alone leave her alone with a baby.”

“I can assure you, he is very much the type,” Ilia said. “He has a side to him that I think you are afraid of.”

Link let out an astonished laugh. “ _Shad_?” he said. “I don’t think Shad could ever frighten me.”

Ilia sniffled and dabbed at her eyes. “I thought you would be more upset,” she said. “I’m glad you’re taking this so well.”

“Why would I be upset?” Link asked. He reached over the table and took Ilia’s hand, her skin smooth under his fingers. “Ilia, I was worried about you. It’s not right that you’re here all alone. And I felt bad about the last time I was here. It shouldn’t have ended like that.”

“Would it have ended with Oka?” she asked, softly. Link looked down, and released her hand.

“No,” he said. “But I would hope that if I had handled it better, and not allowed my problems to take over, this wouldn’t be the first time that we met in over a year.”

Ilia smiled, gently. “Perhaps. But this is my life now. I wouldn’t change this. Oka is my world.”

“He should be Shad’s world too,” Link said, gazing at the covered bundle. The diminutive, pale feet kicked a little. “I swear to you, Ilia, as soon as I get back to Castle Town I’m marching right to his bookshop and kicking in his damn door. That owlish little git will learn to be a father, or so help me-“

“Link?” Ilia was frowning at him. “What are you talking about? Shad doesn’t own a bookshop. I don’t think he’s ever read a book in his life.”

Link paused. “What?”

Something crossed Ilia’s face, leaving her pale and fearful. “Link… Shad is a warrior… like you.”

Link laughed. “Shad can barely cut his dinner!”

“I think we are speaking of different Shads,” Ilia said, carefully. Under her shawl, there was a soft, wet sound, and the baby burbled, the shawl shifting.

Link watched as the cloth dropped from Ilia’s shoulder, revealing the infant. His skin was as pale as snow, and his hair was a shock of black. His little face scrunched in the sudden light, but when he opened his eyes, Link leapt from his chair, knocking it over with a bang. The child screwed up its face at the sound and began to wail.

“Ilia,” he moaned, shrinking against the wall of the cabin. “You _didn’t_.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, her eyes filling with tears. She bounced the baby in her arms, the cries almost unearthly. “Shadow was so like you. You were all I wanted. As soon as I found out I was pregnant he left. He said it was to get back at you. For what Link? What did you do to yourself to make this happen?”

Link edged along the wall, back and shoulders and palms flat against the wood. His heels dug at the earthen floor, trying to push himself further away.

“He’s not like me,” he whispered, his voice shaking. “He’s not me. He’s not.”

The child stopped crying. It opened its eyes again. Eyes that were an ethereal red and glowed in the dim light.

Link burst out of the cabin, a high, cruel laugh echoing in his mind. On all fours, he vomited, his mind whirling. He stumbled to his feet, hand going to his sword. The child was the spawn of his own shadow. The child was the progeny of evil and malice itself. Malice that had preyed on Ilia in her darkest, weakest moments. How many times had his shadow come to her before she had begot the child? What would it do if it grew up? Would he have to face himself, twice over?

Link’s fingers wrapped around the hilt. He needed to kill it. He needed to end the evil that infected this hidden glade. He needed to save Ilia. It was his fault that this had happened. If he had stayed with her instead of running screaming into the night like the coward he was, this never would have happened! _He had to save her_ , to put right the wrongs of his past!

The door opened, and Ilia stepped out, her arms empty. She raised them.

“I know what you want to do,” she said. “He said you would. That’s why I didn’t want to see you. _Oka is my baby_. His father doesn’t matter. If you try to hurt my baby, I’ll kill you myself.”

XXXXXXX

Link hardly registered his flight back to the castle. He only knew to cling to Epona’s saddle as she raced across the Fields, the sharp wind biting his cheeks, stinging his eyes, making them water. At least, he told himself that was what forced the tears from his eyes.

His mind was awash with horror. His every instinct screamed at him to go back, to turn Epona around, to save Ilia. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t. To save her would mean he would have to…

And what of Bo? The mayor had looked him in the eye and told him the child had his look about him. Did he not think that the child’s red eyes and unearthly howls were a dead giveaway that the infant was the spawn of malice itself, and not him?

He groaned, fighting the wave of nausea that rose within him as he arrived at the castle.

He found Thoria wandering through the undercroft of the castle, her boots crunching on gravel. She went slowly, her head tilted up, staring at the vaulted ceiling and the intricate carvings there. Link took a moment to gather himself and headed to her. She turned as he approached, and her face crumpled into concern.

“Oh, no,” she said, as Link’s forced smile fell to the ground and shattered. “Oh, no, no. what happened? What’s wrong?”

Link said nothing, but allowed her to pull her to him, resting his head on her shoulder. He clenched his fists, his teeth bared, as he fought to keep his anguish inside. His shoulders shook and she swayed in place, murmuring soft words into his ear. He didn’t care if anyone saw. He needed her comfort.

When he was able to calm down, they began to walk, and he told her everything. Her expression changed from curious, to concerned, to horrified. As he finished, he lowered his head and stopped, staring at his hands.

“The worst thing is, I considered it,” he said. “I honestly considered killing a child. A baby.” He shook his head, dismayed. “All the way back, I wanted to turn around. It would be quick, I know. But I…”

“I understand,” Thoria said. “We need to help her. She’s in danger.”

“Don’t you think I know that?” he snapped. Thoria took a step back, her brows rising. He grimaced.

“I’m sorry. But I know she’s in danger, and there’s nothing I can do!” he turned and punched one of the columns. A little dust loosened itself from the vaulted ceiling and he swore, loudly. The pain in his hand did not distract him from the anguish in his heart.

“There has to be something we can do,” Thoria said, a little warily.

Link shook his head, his teeth gritted. “There’s nothing. The only way to save her is to kill it. And I… I can’t kill a child. Even if it’s _his_. I can’t.”


	74. 74 - Link

Throughout the day, Link found himself distracted. It was not his usual distraction, his eyes drawn to Thoria over and over, still not quite believing his good fortune. Ilia’s child crawled through the dark cells of his mind, his red eyes glowing, seeking him out. When his shadow invaded his dreams, he was doubled, grown in size and strength. Thoria had wanted to go to Zelda with the news, to inform her of the new threat to Hyrule. Link had privately wondered if this is what the prophecy meant, the return of his darker self, and for a brief moment, considered telling the princess what he had found.

But something held him back. Though it meant that the princess’s attention may be diverted from Thoria, something told him that she would not be distracted for long. The child would be killed, and Zelda’s focus would once again land on Thoria. He could not have the death of a baby on his conscience, even if it was the spawn of malice. He knew he would be the one sent to kill it. Ilia would never forgive him that. He had lost her once already, and he could not do it again. He would wait until it was older, old enough to hold its own in a fight. That would be fair.

Thoria had disagreed. When he had refused to be moved, it had almost resulted in their first argument. She had insisted it was kinder to do the deed quickly, safer for all involved, and that Ilia would understand, in time. But Thoria didn’t understand. Link had hurt Ilia so much already, he couldn’t do it again. The threat was to him, and him alone. Thoria had finally relented, glowering, before their heated discussion became too hot. He suspected she had more to say, but thankfully, she did not voice her thoughts.

The prophecy also weighed on his mind. It was the sole reason that Thoria had not been accepted fully, despite his glowing reports of her skills and knowledge, and her obvious abilities and charm. No. The blasted foretelling stood as an iron wall between them and the princess, barring them from relaxing.

Link pushed the thoughts away as he sparred with her now, her sword whirling. Only half paying attention, he blocked her every move, advancing slowly as she cursed and darted about him, seeking an opening.

What could he do to bypass this barrier? What could he possibly do to make the princess see sense? It did not help matters that Thoria herself knew nothing of the prophecy, knew nothing of the real reason as to why the princess of the realm did not trust her fully. She was trying so hard, learning all she could of the courtly ways, pouring over history books, making notes on the customs of the other races that lived in Hyrule.

He parried another blow from her, his sword arcing almost lazily through the air. Thoria swore again and sheathed her sword, dropping her shield. Link focused on her, pulling himself out of his thoughts.

“Are you done?”

“No,” she said. “I’m trying another tactic.” She grabbed the front of her shirt and pulled, the buttons popping off. Link stared as her chest was revealed, the black lace spidering across her breasts, barely containing them. His sword lowered as his mouth opened, and she leapt across the gap that separated them, knocking his sword aside and pushing him to the ground.

“I win,” she said, with a mischievous grin. Link laughed, the spell only half-broken.

“Alright, you win,” he conceded. “But I would advise against that tactic if you ever find yourself fighting for real.”

“Oh, that’s no fun,” she said, sitting up straight and fiddling with the fraying buttons of her shirt. She shifted upon him, and Link swallowed. “What’s the point in having these if I can’t use them to my own advantage?”

“I can think of a few,” Link said, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder and pushing her off. As much as he wanted to pull her down to the chilly, damp ground and have her there and then, anyone could be watching from the windows of the castle. It was not worth the risk. To be seen by anyone would mean he might never see her again. He rose, holding his shield delicately in front of himself. Thoria raised an eyebrow and her smile widened.

“Let’s get food,” she said. “I don’t think I could beat you again, even resorting to trickery. I’d like to end this on a high.”

“You want to eat now?” Link glanced at her.

“We always do,” she replied, moving towards the weapons store. “Why would now be any different?”

“But…” Link followed, and pressed her against the wall of the weapons shed once they were inside. “Can it not wait?”

“Can you not?” she smirked and favoured him with a swift kiss. “Come on. I’m starving.”

Link fidgeted through the kitchens and their meal, impatient as Thoria took her sweet time enjoying her food as he shuffled about, edging closer to her and trailing his hand across the back of her neck. She ignored him, but her smile grew. He growled, low in his throat. She was taking her time deliberately.

After they had finished their meal, Thoria dawdled along the corridors, pausing occasionally to marvel at a portrait or tapestry. By the time they reached her corridor, Link had had enough. He picked her up and slung her over his shoulder, marching towards his rooms as she laughed and wriggled. Inside, he threw her down and she rose to meet him, and he could feel her smiling through their kiss.

Later, they lay together in the dark. Link ran his hand over Thoria’s hair, over and over, marvelling at the softness of it. Behind her, he could see Navi’s house, empty and quiet. He sighed, softly.

Navi had been gone for weeks following her outburst. He knew she was squirreled away somewhere, sulking. Perhaps with Zelda, perhaps alone, perhaps in the fae realm. And even though her presence had been nothing but an irritant as he explored his relationship with Thoria, now she was gone, he found he missed her.

Thoria stirred.

“Something on your mind?”

“Just thinking about Navi,” he said. “And where she is.”

Thoria shrugged. “I can’t say I’m complaining,” she said. “It’s been a lot less stressful without her watching us all the time.”

“Yes,” Link said. “But still. She’s my oldest friend. I’ve known her in two lifetimes. Okay, she’s a bit possessive…” he trailed off as Thoria gave him a frank look. “ _Very_ possessive. And loud. And annoying. But still. I’m worried about her.”

“I’m sure she’s fine,” Thoria said. “She’s a fairy, and she’s clever. Don’t worry.”

Link sighed. “I guess I just feel a bit guilty,” he admitted. “I’ve not been treating her very well. Running away from her and hiding and all that. It’s not fair.”

“What’s not fair is the way she’s treated us,” Thoria remarked. “She’s rude to you and rather nasty about me. She’s got no respect for you, or your boundaries.”

“But she’s my friend,” Link said. “I’m sure she’ll come around.”

“And, we wouldn’t have to hide from her if we could trust her not to go gabbing to Zelda,” Thoria continued. “She brought it on herself.”

“It’s just the way she is,” Link said. “She’s protective. I know she wouldn’t betray me or my trust.”

“So why haven’t you told her?”

Link said nothing. Thoria let the silence bloom for a full minute before she settled back down. He would have to speak with the fairy when she returned. If nothing else, he wanted to apologise to her. He knew he couldn’t risk telling anyone about his relationship with Thoria. Navi’s loyalty was to him, but it was also to the kingdom, and to Zelda. She would see it as a threat and act accordingly, like he would, if he was in her shoes.

“Do you think she would come around?” Thoria asked, softly into the night. “Do you think the princess will? I can see it, when they look at me. They don’t trust me. It’s almost like they’re scared of me. Have I done something wrong?”

“No, of course not,” Link took her face in his hands and kissed her. “You’ve been perfect.”

“Then why don’t they trust me?” she asked. “I don’t mind you ‘guarding’ me, it means we don’t have to find an excuse to spend time together, but I don’t know what else I can do to make things better for us.”

He gazed at her. A weigh of guilt settled itself on his chest, adding to the guilt that was already draped about his shoulders. It pressed down, constricting his lungs. He took a breath and closed his eyes.

“There’s something I need to tell you,” he said.

He felt Thoria turn to him fully, and her hand slid across his waist. He heard her unspoken question. He sighed, and sat up, the covers falling to his lap. In the moonlight, he admired her form, curved and graceful. Her hand slid to his lap, but for the first time, it did not stir him. Not completely, anyway.

How would she react? Would she laugh, or be horrified? Would she be angry, or upset? How to tell her?

“When… when you came to Hyrule,” he began, haltingly. “And I brought you to the castle. We all thought it was… strange.”

“It would have been weird if you didn’t,” she said.

“Zelda decided to research into phenomena like it,” Link continued. “Failing that, she looked into prophecies. Anything to tell us about who you were, why you were here, what it meant.”

“And found nothing,” Thoria finished for him. “I know that.”

“Not nothing,” Link said. He darted a look her way, sensing her stillness. “I’m sorry. I should have told you earlier.”

She sat up, her eyes dark.

“Tell me,” she said.

“Zelda found a prophecy,” he said, looking at his knees. “As with all of them, it’s obscure and probably nonsense. But she believes it relates to you.”

Her eyes bored into his. “Tell me what it says.”

Link hesitated. He bit his lip. He took a deep breath.

“ _Dark times will befall Hyrule when a dark stranger comes. They will have power beyond reckoning, and the wisest minds will fall prey to dangers of their own making. The homes of the innocent will light in the fires of fury and courage will kneel before a broken heart. Beware the betrayal, the spirit is loyal to a false god.”_

Thoria leaned away, her brows rising up her forehead.

“What a load of horseshit,” she said. It seemed to be more out of reflex than anything. “Powers beyond… I don’t even… I…” she dropped her gaze, and began to rub her hands over each other. “She thinks it’s me?”

Link nodded and placed his hand over hers. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

Thoria gave a tiny, desperate laugh. “I don’t blame you. You were sent to guard me, after all. Now I truly know why.”

“I’m not complaining,” he said. Her smile was tight.

“Neither am I,” she said. “But… I’m not sure how to feel about it.” She ran her hands over her hair. “So… she thinks that this prophecy means me. No wonder she doesn’t like me. She must be terrified. People who are afraid can act… irrationally.”

Link shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. I can tell you’re not bad. You don’t have crazy magic powers.” He flashed her an impish grin that she only half-heartedly returned. “Do you?”

She leaned in and kissed him, gently. “Don’t I?”

He laughed and pulled her into an embrace, feeling her warm, soft skin.

“Don’t let it trouble you,” he murmured into her hair. “I just thought you should know.”

“Thank you for telling me,” she curled up against him. Her breasts were hot against him and he shivered delightedly. “I’m glad you did.”

Disappointingly, she did not reach to kiss him again, nor did her hands stray like he wanted. But nonetheless, he smiled. They had the rest of their lives ahead of them. And when Zelda finally realised that the prophecy was not about Thoria, and began to trust her as she continued to prove herself, perhaps they could stop hiding.

He loved her so desperately, but something held him back from saying the words. It was dangerous to love her. Dangerous for him, but moreso for her. He could endure a thousand torments for her, but he would not see her put in danger because of his feelings. He felt that he should speak them, those three, simple words. Those three, terrible words, that brought light and joy and danger. He remained silent.

He kissed her forehead and settled down. Before sleep took him, he looked at her one more time. Her eyes were open and staring into the dark.


	75. 75 - Navi

Navi stepped back through the portal, hoping against hope that her time in the realm of the fae had not been too long in Hyrule. The castle seemed unchanged, and the sky outside still spoke of autumn, with trees of gold and red. Navi breathed. A week, perhaps less.

She longed to see Link, to fly straight to him and curl up at the nape of his neck, holding his earring as they walked together and talked. She would not tell him of her time in the fae realm. At least, not all of it.

In her hands she held a bag of petals, each no bigger than her palm. A full moon was what she needed now, and a cloudless night.

Glancing out of the window again, Navi judged that it would be a few hours yet until sundown. Tucking the bag securely under her shift, she flew off in search of Link.

She passed guards and servants, heads down and consumed by their own thoughts. She passed courtiers and nobles, noses in the air and steps assured by the right of their birth. None noticed her flitting near the ceiling, a little blue streak of light.

Following her nose, Navi arrived at the Library. She pouted. This was where that woman always seemed to be. And wherever she went, Link was not far behind, watching her like the good little Chosen Knight that he was, obeying their princess to the end. Navi sneered. Such a pity that he could not see the danger. What fool did not see a monster when it was right before them?

But he didn’t have to worry about that any more. Navi now had the means to solve the problem once and for all. She idly regretted not having enough room in her pouch for the ingredients for love potion. But Thoria’s death was more important. She could make Link love her at any time, but not while the stranger had her under this ridiculous spell.

Navi flew into the grand Library, ignoring the shelves of books and reams of parchment, the ancient scrolls and grand fireplaces. Her eyes sought only Link, and she found him resting on a sofa, idly turning the pages of a book. Navi smiled. The light from the lowering sun lit his cheekbones so softly, casting a gentle shadow in the hollow of his throat.

Thoria was at the opposite end, engrossed in a heavy tome. Navi’s smile soured. The light hit her eyes in the most unattractive way, turning their acid green to almost gold, a feral yellow that made her look frightening and evil.

Navi shuddered, and flew to Link.

He looked up as she flitted to him. He smiled and closed his book with a snap.

“Navi!” he said, and she was delighted to hear the warmth in his voice. “Where have you been? It’s been weeks!”

Navi cursed herself. Longer than she had hoped for. She cast a sneaky glance at Thoria, and saw the round-eared freak glaring at her from behind her book. Navi suppressed a gulp. The glare was intense, and Navi had no doubt that Thoria was truly evil.

But in the split second that it took to register, the look was gone, and Thoria was smiling gently.

“Yes, we missed you, Navi.”

Navi turned her shoulder to the stranger, addressing Link.

“I went home, to the fae realm,” she said. “I wanted to… do a few things there.”

Link nodded. “No problem,” he said, and Navi clenched her fists at the odd phrase he had picked up. “Just let me know next time, okay?” He lowered his voice. “Don’t leave me like before.”

Navi’s heart just about broke. She felt a terrible pang in her heart. She had ignored him and sniped at him for so long, she was truly blessed that he was such a kind and forgiving man. Her Link. Her love.

“I never would,” she said, her voice full of emotion. “I never could. I’m sorry, I didn’t think I would be gone for so long…”

Link waved her comments gently away. “You’re back now. That’s what matters.”

“Indeed,” Thoria said, still smiling. To Navi, it was the smile of a predator. “You’re back now.”

Navi nodded. “Yes, but I… I have some more things to do. Princess Zelda…” she seized on the sudden idea. “She wanted me to have a look at some things back home, I better go and tell her what I saw about the… flowers.”

Link nodded. “No problem,” he said again. “I’ll see you later, at dinner?”

“Yes,” Navi said. She wanted to flutter to his ear and kiss his cheek, to feel the rough stubble against her lips, but she resisted. “I’ll be back soon.”

Navi left, quickly. She flew along the corridor and out of the first open window she came to, shivering against the light breeze that her flight afforded her. The sun was cool in the air, and the sky was cloudless and azure. It began to colour towards the west, a line of purple smudging the horizon.

Navi flew to the roof of the castle, scanning the tiles for the perfect spot. She soon found it, a loose tile near to the tallest tower. There, she landed and took out her precious bag of petals. She had to collect some pure spring water, and then, once a full moon rose, she would be ready.

She sat back. The air was cold. There would be a frost tonight. She hoped it would not affect the petals. She cast a protective spell just in case, and stared at the tile a long time, her mind wandering. If all went to plan, the stranger would no longer be a problem, and Link would be free of whatever curse she had on him.

Shivering, Navi rose, and found her way back inside the castle. She flew to Link’s rooms and huddled under her blanket in her little house. Sitting cross legged on the bed, she stared at the door, waiting for Link.

It had been so long since it had been just them. Fondly, she remembered the adventures they had had together. Long walks through the forest, fast rides across the fields. Delving into places long forgotten, her Hero bravely striding forth, sword in hand, cutting down his foes and retrieving important items for the princess. Everything about him was so wonderful.

She thought back to that special night that they shared. Her hands on him, the gasps she drew from his throat. She pretended that he did not call the strangers name. She pretended that he woke and saw her, his eyes full of passion and desire for her, for Navi.

One day it would be so. Perhaps not now, whilst this strange, evil woman had her spell on him, but soon. No one could spend so much time together as Navi and her Hero and not fall in love. She quivered under her blankets. He would realise. He would see. When he came back tonight, they would stay up late and talk, the way they used to. She would even endure his rambling about the stranger if that meant she could have his attention. He wouldn’t ramble about her for much longer. Not when she was dead.

She sat, and she waited, watching the door, as the sun dipped below the horizon and the moon rose high in the sky. She waited, and waited.

Link did not appear.


	76. 76 - Link

Link held out a hand to stop Thoria as they walked through the castle, Navi tinkling at his shoulder. Ahead of them was the princess, her hand lightly on the arm of an older lord who looked to be in his sixth decade. The lord was gesturing widely, his deep voice rippling on the air, and Zelda gave a dainty laugh. Impa followed a few paces behind, and what could only be the lord’s footmen followed a few paces behind her.

They watched until the procession had rounded a corner, and Link lowered his hand.

“Poor thing,” Thoria said. “I’m guessing he’s a suitor?”

“Probably.”

“That is Lord Resper,” Navi said, haughtily. “I’m not surprised you don’t know him.”

“Oi,” Link said. “The nobility hated me until the party. I’m not going to remember all of them.”

“I didn’t mean you,” she said, snuggling against his neck. Thoria chuckled.

“Lord Resper, of the House Resper, is the eighteenth Lord of that House,” she said. “He is well documented as being one of the more popular Lords, as he treats those in his holdings fairly and kindly. He is known for his sharp tongue and quick wit. From what I’ve read, he would make a fine king, but his age is against him.”

Link gave her an amazed smile. “Did you swallow a book on nobility?”

“I shat it out this morning,” she quipped.

“You’re such a show-off,” Navi grumbled. Link sighed.

“Marriage is a pretty big deal here, isn’t it?” Thoria said. “I mean, obviously, for royalty and nobility, you’ve got to think about your alliances and all sorts of things beyond just who you fall in love with, if you even get that lucky. But what about the common folk? There’s less written about that.”

“The commons marry for love or companionship,” Link said. “They’re fortunate not to be forced to consider other things, though a wealthy farmer might marry off his daughters to other landowners.”

“Oh, like arranged marriage?”

“I guess you could call it that. Did you have that at home?”

Thoria’s eyes went dark. “We did, in some parts of the world,” she said. “I do not agree with it.”

“Why?”

“Because I believe any person should be free to marry whomsoever they choose,” she said. “It’s not for others to decide.” She nodded at the door the princess had gone through. “It’s why I feel for Zelda. I’ll bet none of those men are the one she loves.” She gave Link a meaningful look. He twisted his mouth.

“I guess.”

They wandered some more, and ended up in one of the castle’s many reception rooms. This one was one of the smaller ones, coloured a simple cream. Link sank onto the sofa and sighed, leaning his head back. Thoria flopped onto the one opposite.

He wanted her next to him, to feel the warmth of her body against his. This reception room was one of those they had not yet checked off on their list. He watched her gaze around, and felt that she was thinking the same. The look she gave him then confirmed his suspicions, and he had to sit back up and hunch over. She chuckled, and he gazed at her, drinking in her face. Her glorious eyes, her small, freckled nose, her full lips, marvelling once more at his good fortune.

Navi flew off Link’s shoulder and settled on the table, where she looked between the both of them, her head swivelling like an owl.

“Have you been married before?” Thoria asked, catching him off guard.

“I have,” he said, after a moment’s thought. “A few times. All in former lives.”

He thought of Malon, the beautiful stable girl from a time long ago, with hair like fire and eyes like a summer sky. She had freckles on her nose as well.

 _Not all of my past lives had been completely black_ , he mused. There was beauty sown amongst the dark. Malon had been with him for years after the War Through Time ended, as he became a knight, serving the Royal Family for a decade, before he retired after a well-aimed arrow had left him half blind. He returned to Lon Lon Ranch, supporting Malon in her work, warming her bed, mourning with her when Talon died.

They had married in the spring, with Queen Zelda’s blessing, under the boughs of a blossoming tree. And, for a time, he was happy.

But after fifteen years of leaving for long stretches at Zelda’s behest, of fifteen years with no children, and increasing rows over the matter, he had decided to leave, late one night, his heart aching with the loss, but knowing it was the right thing to do.

Thoria was watching him, her half-smile on her face. He returned it absently, lost in his memories.

Returning to the Royal Service in his forties was not difficult. The Hero of Time had commanded great respect back then, even maimed. He had trained the soldiers, his strength undiminished, learning to fight with half his sight gone. Under his watchful eye, the Hyrulean army had become a force to be reckoned with, a militia so skilled and devastating that none could stand against them.

But in his forty-sixth year, a Gerudo woman had come to the castle.

She was of an age with him, and she had announced herself as Ganondorf’s daughter, demanding he face her in single combat to answer for his role in her father’s banishment, or the Gerudo would march on the castle.

Naturally, Link had risen to the challenge. And though he fought valiantly, and ended the Thief King’s protégé with little effort, the woman had concealed a poisoned blade.

His smile soured. The Hero of Time, a mighty man, worthy of the songs sung about him and the legends passed through the ages, had been killed by cowardice and low cunning. Queen Zelda, of course, had hidden the truth of his death, citing that he had died of his wounds in a great battle, in which he was outnumbered by Gerudo thieves who had snuck into the castle under the cover of night.

She had used that excuse to slaughter the Gerudo.

Now, hardly any remained. A few still survived, but they were scattered to the four corners of Hyrule, all but extinct. The princess had been wise, and kind, and just, and fair. But he knew she had loved him then. Perhaps not as she did now, furtively, obsessively, frighteningly. But it was a true, platonic love bourne of friendship, of two people who had weathered hard times together. He shared her friendly love, once. That was why she had ordered the destruction of the Gerudo. Not only were they a reminder of Ganondorf and his evil, nor a threat; they had committed a much greater sin. They had taken away her best friend, the only one she had left.

He wished it were still the same. A friendship would be all he would ever want with the heir to the throne of Hyrule. He did not feel that he knew her as well as he once did. But then, the Zelda he thought he knew would not have committed genocide because of the actions of one maddened Gerudo.

“Was it good?” Thoria asked, bringing him back to the present.

“Huh?”

“Being married. Did you like it?”

He shrugged. “For the most part, yes. But that’s all in the past. Have you?”

“Me?”

“Yeah. Have you ever been married?”

Thoria frowned and sat back, crossing her arms and legs, running a thumb over her lip.

“I’ve no idea,” she said, eventually. “I don’t think so, though, I’m only twenty-seven. I’ve had boyfriends, sure, but that’s it.”

“So, you went sleeping around out of wedlock?” Navi shuddered. “How common.”

Link raised an eyebrow. Or rather, he tried, and managed about half way before the other joined.

“You’re getting better at that,” Thoria said. She grinned, and raised her left brow, then her right, wiggling them independently. Link stuck his tongue out at her.

“I said-“ Navi began.

“We heard you,” Link replied. “It’s normal. I’ve done it.”

Navi gaped at him. “You’ve _what?_ ”

He shrugged. “I told you. It’s normal.”

“One rule for the masses, another for the king,” Thoria sang, softly. “I suppose you ought to hurry up and get married to someone then, if it’ll please her little fairyship.”

Link laughed.

“You can scoff, but he’s going to marry the princess,” Navi sniffed. Then, her eyes went wide, and she covered her mouth. Link blinked at her.

“Don’t be daft,” he said, smiling. “I’m not a noble. By law, she can’t. Don’t know why she’d want to.”

“Because you’re perfect,” Navi said. “Can’t or not, she should marry you. You’d make a wonderful king.”

Link repressed a shudder. “I highly doubt she thinks of me that way, Navi,” he said, unsure if he was trying to convince the fairy, or himself. “Besides, I don’t want to be king. Sounds like way too much effort.” He caught Thoria’s eye as Navi fluttered off the table with her nose in the air and flew to a fruit bowl at the other end of the room.

“I think she might,” Thoria said, slowly. “Think of all the times she’s called you to her chambers for little more than a chat. Warning you away from me. The way she looks at you.”

“She’s always got a reason,” Link said, a little defensively. “She’s been searching for that artefact, the one that is said to give strength to an army. She wants my opinion on it.”

“That, and everything else,” Thoria remarked.

Link shook his head. The princess had been more than a little obvious in her recent meetings with him. The way her eyes lingered on his body, her subtle insinuations, her bemoaning of all her suitors and her almost lavish praises of him. “Alright, maybe she does, a little bit.” Thoria snorted, but he pushed on. “It doesn’t matter. By law, she can’t marry me. We’re safe.”

Thoria smiled softly, and then it slid from her face.

“Who makes the laws of Hyrule?”

“The King,” Link replied. “Why does…” he trailed off as realisation dawned. He shared Thoria’s uneasy look. “If Rhoam dies…”

“And Zelda has not yet married…”

“Oh no,” Link said.


	77. 77 - Navi

The moon rising, Navi flew as fast as she could to the roof of the castle, shivering against the cold, late autumn night. There, she brushed frost off the tiles and retrieved her bag, and set down her mortar and pestle. She angled it so that the moon shone directly overhead, and poured half the spring water inside. The ripples caught the moonlight, growing silver crescents that lapped the side of the mortar and vanished.

Navi took a breath, drawing on her fae magic. For a moment, she hesitated. Was this right? Perhaps she was being hasty, that the woman wasn’t really evil, and it was only a product of her… her jealousy, that made her feel this way? She knew in her heart Link would never be hers, not truly.

Was Link right? Was Thoria really just a lost, lonely stranger in the land in need of a friend, and Link was kind enough to be that friend? Perhaps she had just imagined her using magic? What if she was just imagining Link’s attraction to the stranger, her love for him conjuring things that were not there?

And then Navi remembered the look Thoria had given her in the Library. The fleeting glare of pure rage, contained behind a flimsy mask of pious sincerity. The time their eyes met on the roof, that instilled a fear into her so great that the mere memory made her quake. She remembered how little time she was now spending with Link, how all his attention was taken up with the stranger, how he never seemed to want to be near her, Navi, any more. And Navi saw in her mind the way Link looked at the stranger, with utter adoration. Their embraces. Their dance. The way she had caught them hidden behind a door, almost as if they had been kissing.

Navi spat the incantation with venom. Her hands glowed, not their usual blue, but a deep, ruby hue. The water churned in the mortar, the ripples reflecting the red light. It began to boil, bubbling ferociously, steaming in the cold air. Soon, there was but a puddle left in the bottom.

Hands still glowing, Navi drew out the pouch of leaves and poured them into the mortar. She took her pestle and began to pound them into a paste, muttering the incantation.

She was doing this for Link. She was doing it to save him from the spell the stranger had cast upon him.

Once the leaves were ground, she poured the last of the water into the mortar and began to stir with the pestle, chanting, until her hands stopped glowing and the words dried on her lips.

She was done.

She carefully poured the pinkish liquid back into the spring water bottle. She was surprised to find that there was only enough for half a thimbleful. But no matter. She held it up to the light, the bottle catching the glint of light from above.

 _Bàs ban-dia_. The Black Kiss. The rarest, and deadliest poison known. A poison only the fae could make.

It was said even the goddesses would fall into a slumber like death should a single drop pass their lips. Gingerly, Navi pocketed the bottle. She took a breath. It was now, or never.

Navi flew down from the roof of the castle, flitting along the walls until she came to an open window. She entered, and flew back out. The door inside was shut. Cursing, she went along, trying another window. This door was shut as well. She did not want to waste her magic.

Navi said something ancient and foul under her breath. She flew on, before inspiration struck. She about turned, and flew over the roof once more, searching for the balconies that hung outside the castle bedrooms, searching for the one door she hoped was open.

Luck was on her side, and she darted down, flying in through the open glass door of Thoria’s bedroom. Why she had it open in the autumn was beyond her, but she clearly didn’t feel the cold like normal people. Inside, it was dark and still. Thoria was not there. Navi breathed a sigh of relief, trying not to think of where she may be, and who she would be with.

A pitcher of water stood on her bedside table, a glass next to it. Navi lit on the rim of the pitcher, and drew out the poison. She paused. Again, doubt crossed her mind. She would be killing a person. Killing a person who, really, had done nothing but steal Link’s attention from her.

Navi grimaced. It wasn’t that she didn’t know that Link would be destined for a mate other than her. But it didn’t have to be someone Navi _knew_ was evil. Zelda was the obvious choice. Zelda, who loved Link with a passion akin to Navi’s own. Navi knew Zelda yearned for her Hero, and would bend the very shape of the land to have him by her side. The secret conversations they had had, the plans Zelda teased about her mind… Navi hoped she could find a way.

And Navi would be happy to see them together, because she knew Link did not feel the same way for his princess.

Unhappily married, Link would turn to his only friend for solace. They would talk long into the night, curled together in some secret place. And then, oh then, their eyes would meet, their lips would touch…

But only if Thoria was not there to stand in her way. Navi uncorked the bottle and upended the contents into the water.

She watched the pinkish liquid dissipate until she could discern it no more. Satisfied, she stowed the bottle in her shift, and rose, flitting to the open balcony door, just as the door to the room opened.

“Navi?”

Navi squeaked in fright and zipped up to the ceiling. Thoria stood there, framed in the light from the corridor. There was nowhere to hide, Thoria had seen her. If she fled, Thoria would know something was wrong. As she hovered by the ceiling, Thoria came inside, closing the door gently behind her. She took her cloak off and lit the lamps lining the walls, then moved to the balcony door. She closed it.

“What are you doing here?” Thoria asked, a look of polite befuddlement on her face.

Navi swallowed, and came down from the ceiling to land on Thoria’s dresser.

“I… I wanted to… apologise,” Navi said, thinking quickly.

“Apologise?” Thoria said. “Whatever for?”

“I… I know I haven’t been as… cordial, with you, as I should have been,” Navi said. “I wanted to apologise for… being rude, and if I have offended you, I did not mean to.” She tucked her hands behind her back and ducked her head, trying to look contrite.

“Oh Navi, don’t be daft,” Thoria said, perching on the edge of her bed. “I know my coming here has unsettled a lot of people, and you most of all. You must all be used to things being different. Believe me, if I could be home, I would be.”

Navi brightened. Away from here was good.

Thoria continued. “I understand you have found this hard,” she said. “You must be so used to having Link all to yourself, it must be frustrating that he has to guard me all the time.” She smiled at this, but it did not reach her eyes.

“No,” Navi said, cautiously. “It’s just because… you wouldn’t understand, but Hyrule is plagued by dark forces. We must be suspicious of anything unusual.”

“Of course.”

“And anything,” Navi said, a sharpness creeping into her tone. “Anything that threatens Link or Hyrule must be dealt with.”

“I quite agree,” Thoria said. “Contrary to what… some… may believe, I mean no one any harm whatsoever.”

She rose. “Forgive my manners! I haven’t offered you any refreshment.” She walked over to the pitcher. “I’m afraid I haven’t anything but water, and I’m not sure I’ve got anything fairy-sized to drink from…” she paused. “I might have a thimble somewhere?”

“Oh, don’t trouble yourself,” Navi said. “I want for nothing. But please,” she waved a delicate hand. “Have a drink yourself.”

“Well, if you’re sure,” Thoria said.

She lifted the pitcher and swirled the water within. She picked up her glass and poured a generous measure into it. Gently, she set the pitcher down and returned to sit on the bed. She lifted the glass to her lips, and paused.

“I hope that this means we can be somewhat more comfortable with each other,” Thoria said. “I feel you have nothing to apologise for…” she paused again, and her eyes seemed to darken for a heartbeat. “But I accept it nonetheless.” She raised the glass. “To future friends?”

“To future friends,” Navi said, miming raising her own glass. Her heart was pounding. This was it. No turning back now. The glass was still in the air, so Navi pantomimed taking a drink.

Thoria smiled, a brief, upward quirk of her lips. She tilted the glass, and drained it in four, long swallows.

Navi held her breath as Thoria sighed happily. How long did it take to work? She knew not long, but how long? Would it work if it was diluted like that? Thoria rose and placed the glass back on the bedside table. Would it be seconds, minutes? How quickly would it take her if…

Thoria coughed, and put a hand to her throat. “Excuse me,” she said, her voice rasping. “I…”

She retched. Her shoulders convulsed. Navi leapt into the air, her body tingling. She covered her mouth as Thoria lurched forward, steadying herself against the wall, pathetic, little gaspy noises coming from her throat. She staggered against the bedside table, the pitcher tumbling to the floor, spilling over the carpet. Her hair was covering her face, Navi couldn’t see, but she seemed to be clawing at her throat. She flew closer, a morbid fascination taking over. She had to be sure. She had to know Thoria was dying. A sudden fear hit her. Would anyone know? Would anyone guess it was her? No, surely not. A jealous noble would be blamed, perhaps, or an assassin sent by some other kingdom. Navi would have to be careful when the body was discovered, to be as shocked and appalled as everyone else.

Thoria’s gasps were stuttering now. Small chokes, expulsions of breath. But they didn’t seem to be normal. They sounded odd.

“Hah… Hah…” Thoria choked. “Hah… Hah… ha. Ha. Ha ha ha hahahahaha!”

She was _laughing_.


	78. 78 - Navi

Navi fluttered in the air, horror-struck, as Thoria doubled over, laughing fit to burst. She put out a hand to steady herself against the wall. Slowly, she regained control, her deep laughter subsiding into chuckles.

“Oh, Navi,” she said, wiping her eyes. “Oh Navi, Navi, _Navi_. That was quite inspired.”

Navi swallowed. Had she done something wrong? Perhaps her incantation was wrong, or the moonlight wasn’t quite right, or the spring water wasn’t pure enough…

“Y-you’re…” Navi squeaked. “You’re…”

“Not dead,” Thoria said, cheerfully. “Though I must admit, it was a good effort. ‘Black Kiss,’ if I’m not mistaken?” Thoria was smiling, but her eyes were burning with anger.

“How?” Navi asked in a small voice, staring about the room. There _must_ be a way out…

Thoria smiled. A smile that stretched too wide, that showed too many teeth.

“Funny story,” she said. “But you’ve never liked my jokes, have you?”

Navi looked away from the window in time to see Thoria leap her way. She screamed as Thoria snatched her from the air.

“Let me go!” Navi screamed as Thoria’s fingers closed around her body. She beat her fists on Thoria’s hand, screaming as loud as she could. “Let me go!”

“No,” Thoria said. “You did just try to kill me, you know.”

“ _HEEEEEELP_!” Navi screamed. “ _HEEEEEEEELP_!”

“Oh, shut up,” Thoria said. She looked over to her shelves, which were loaded with books, potted plants and other oddments. She seemed to be looking for something.

Navi wriggled more forcefully and spread her wings. They were as hard as stone, and the edges were sharp. She angled her wings and slashed at Thoria’s fingers.

Thoria grunted and looked down as a thin line of blood appeared. Navi made to slash her again, but this time, Thoria’s skin seemed to _glow_ , and Navi’s wings bounced off her hand.

“What…?”

“If you would just stay still a minute,” Thoria said.

“ _HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELP_!” Navi screamed again.

“No one can hear you,” Thoria said, sounding exasperated. “So, you might as well just shut up.” She glared down at Navi. “Tell me. Why did you try to poison me?”

“Because you’re an evil freak!” Navi shrieked. Her heart was pounding fit to burst, and she struggled harder against Thoria’s iron grip. “You will bring darkness to Hyrule!”

“Lunatic,” Thoria observed.

“Just kill me,” Navi cried, in a fit of desperation. “Kill me and have done with it! Link will avenge me! This will show him what you’re truly like!”

Thoria stopped scanning her shelves and looked back down. Navi quietened. There was a decidedly evil smile playing about her face.

“That’s what this is all about, isn’t it?” Thoria said. “You don’t like me because Link is my friend.”

“You’ve cast a spell on him,” Navi spat. “We can all see it. You’re obsessed with him, so you’ve cursed him to be infatuated with you!”

“Pot, meet kettle,” Thoria said.

Navi sneered at the strange phrase. “Don’t try to deny it, I know it’s true!”

“You are the one who is infatuated,” Thoria said. “Link’s mind is his own. And I would never, _ever_ do what you have done.”

Thoria’s smile was gone now. She was staring at Navi in a way that made her go cold. She swallowed.

“What are you talking about?” she said. “I haven’t done anything!”

“No?” Thoria’s grip tightened, and Navi gasped. It was getting hard to breathe. “You liar.”

“I haven’t!” Navi gasped.

“I saw you,” Thoria hissed. “That summer night. _I saw you_.”

Navi went still. The memory was as clear as day to her. Link, lying naked on the bed, her hands upon him, teasing him and pleasuring him until…

“I saw you,” Thoria said again. “You know, this castle’s full of secret passages. There’s a whole network of them hidden away. You can cross from one side to the other without ever being seen. I found them. I explored them. And I saw you. You assaulted him. In his sleep. You sick, twisted _freak_.”

“He loves me!” Navi burst out. “I did it because he loves me! He just doesn’t know it yet because you’re cursed him! He could never love someone like you.” Rage building, Navi beat her fists on Thoria’s hand. “He wanted it, you saw! If he didn’t he wouldn’t have-“

Navi squealed as Thoria snarled and flung her arm back, as if to throw her against the wall. She braced herself for the impact, but Thoria stopped, and lowered her hand.

“I should kill you for that,” Thoria hissed. “You’re disgusting.” Her voice was shaking, and Navi quailed. Her eyes were glowing with green fire, and her face was distorted by the flickering shadows.

“So, do it!” Navi sobbed. “If you think that will make him love you, you’re wrong! He’ll kill you if you hurt me!”

“No,” Thoria said, quietly, as the flames in her eyes dimmed. “Killing you serves no purpose. I wouldn’t want to stoop to your level.”

Thoria moved towards the shelves, and began to feel around at the back.

“I wish we could have gotten along,” she murmured, shifting books and plants. “It’s a pity things have turned out this way.”

“What are you doing?” Navi said, straining to see. “Put me down!” she slashed her wings again, and Thoria took no notice. She pulled something out from behind the books.

A glass bottle.

“ _No!_ ” Navi shrieked. “No, not the bottle!”

Thoria ignored her, and tucked the jar under her arm, unscrewing the lid with her fingers. Desperately, Navi called on as much of her power as she could, and released a blast of white-blue light that lit up the room as though it were day. Thoria grunted and winced, and her grip slackened.

With a wriggle, Navi slipped her grasp, and flew to the balcony door as Thoria rubbed at her eyes, cursing. Drained from her magic, Navi called on it again, and the door clicked, creeping open an inch. An inch was enough. Navi soared for the opening as Thoria shouted something, and then she was outside and free!

Navi scrambled into the air, flitting left and right, her wings heavy. Her terror lent her strength as she climbed. She would hide until she recovered, and then she would go straight to Link with what had happened. She wouldn’t tell him about the poison, and there was no proof of it as Thoria hadn’t died. But no, he was bewitched, he wouldn’t believe her! She must go to Zelda!

Navi risked a look behind her. The castle was far below as she went, higher and higher, the roof sparkling with frost, glittering like the grounds below. Thoria was standing on the balcony, nothing more than a black smudge, and Navi laughed. It was a high, shrill sound. Thoria couldn’t reach her now. There was nothing that she could-

Far below, Thoria leaned back, as though she was about to throw something. Navi paused. What was she doing?

Thoria pitched her arm forwards, and something large and clear came soaring through the air, right at Navi. Too late, she realised what it was. She screamed and scrambled in the air, but she was too tired, too slow. With terrifying accuracy, the bottle caught Navi inside with ease. The lid followed, and screwed itself on.

Trapped, Navi continued to scream as the bottle began to plummet towards the ground. There was no escape, she couldn’t fly away, and she had not enough magic left to cushion her fall. She would die, dashed against the ground in a dreadful smear of blood and guts and glass.

And then Thoria was there, plucking the bottle from the air as casually as if she was picking flowers. They were still fifty foot from the ground. Faster than thought, Thoria turned in the sky and leapt back to her balcony, slipping inside and closing the door.

She raised the bottle and looked at Navi. Her face was impassive. Navi beat her fists on the glass.

“Let me out!” she shouted. “Let me out or I swear I’ll…”

Thoria raised her other hand and moved her fingers. Nothing seemed to happen, but she smiled.

“You make far too much noise,” Thoria said. “Now, no one can hear you. Scream all you like, it will do you no good.”

Thoria placed the bottle on the shelf and nudged it behind a pile of books. She moved a potted plant in the way, leaving only a sliver of light, filled with the green, burning eyes of the sorceress.

“Now no one will find you,” she said. Navi redoubled her efforts, shouting and screaming until her throat was ragged. Thoria watched, a smug smile on her face, until Navi slumped to the bottom of her prison, weeping.

“Enjoy the view,” Thoria said. “For what you’ve done to me, and to him, this is where you belong. And I cannot risk you running your mouth to the princess. Have you any idea how much trouble Link would be in if you did? Did you ever think to consider how he feels for just one moment of your nasty little life?”

She glared at the fairy, the flickering emerald flames reflecting in the glass. Navi could think of no response other than to keep screaming. The sorceress nodded.

“I didn’t think so. Perhaps this will give you some perspective.”

“You’re dead!” Navi screamed. “Dead! I won’t rest until you’re dead!”

Thoria smiled.

_“Is e m ’ainm Thoria. Cuir eagal orm.”_

With that, she turned on her heel and left, clicking her fingers to extinguish the lamps as she went, slamming the door behind her.

Navi put her head in her hands and sobbed. She had failed. Her misery was such that she could not even feel vindicated in the fact that she had been right. Thoria was dangerous. Thoria was evil. The sorceress was more powerful than she had dared imagine. And she was loose in the castle, loose to do whatever she wanted. No one but Navi knew. Zelda suspected, but she thought that even Thoria would not be so arrogant as to challenge the princess of Hyrule. At least, not yet.

She beat her fist on the floor. She had failed him, her Link. He was in danger, and there was nothing she could do about it.


	79. 79 - Link

The first morning of winter brought a cold, clear sky and a breeze so crisp it almost bit. Link grinned at Thoria as they left the castle grounds, marvelling at the way her eyes seemed to sparkle above rosy cheeks, the way that the tip of her nose turned pink in the chilly air. She glanced at him, and though the lower half of her face was hidden by a thick scarf, he just knew she was smiling her special, half-smile.

Castle Town was as busy as ever, the citizens bustling about their business, hauling crates, carrying baskets, or calling from their stalls. Each person was bundled up against the cold, the light of the sun doing little to warm the stone paths, but bringing a piercing light that was so different from the summer sun.

Link tugged the hood of his cloak further over his head. Though it was by Zelda’s command that he wore his tunic and hat, he was grateful for the chill. The cloak covered his clothes rather well, and to the general populous, he was just another armed traveller wandering the market.

Thoria had tucked her hair under a slightly misshapen woollen hat that she proudly announced she had made herself. Her ears were hidden, and for a brief moment as she brushed his gloved hand with her own, Link believed that they could almost be free. But he shook off the thought as Thoria tugged him over to a cart, the smiling vendor pointing at the vats of hot cider and steaming, spiced wine. Anyone could be watching.

He bought them both hot mugs of the spiced wine, and they retreated to the edge of the square, warming their fingers around the clay mugs. Half-hidden underneath the archways, Link allowed Thoria to lean on his arm as they watched the townsfolk scurry by.

“Hey, you’ve got something on your cloak,” Thoria said, tapping his chest. Link looked down and Thoria flicked his nose. “Gotcha!”

“Din alive,” Link shook his head, unable to stop the grin that came. “How many times have you got me with that now?”

“Oh, I dunno. Eight?” Thoria chuckled into her mug. “I’m surprised you’ve not become attuned to it by now.”

Link shrugged. “I guess it’s because I can drop my guard around you,” he nudged her with an elbow. “And all you do is take advantage of it.”

“Bite me,” she said.

“Later,” Link promised, with a wry grin.

“Mm-hmm,” Thoria tilted her mug and drained the last of her wine. Link copied her and they returned their mugs to the vendor. “Where now?”

“Wherever you like,” Link gestured around the market. “The world is your oil stall.”

“Oyster,” Thoria corrected him with a laugh.

“You and your idioms! What’s that supposed to mean, anyway?”

“I have no idea.”

“Seriously?”

“Well, yeah. I don’t know everything.”

“You? Not knowing everything?” Link bumped her shoulder with his own. “I can’t believe that.”

“I don’t!” Thoria tugged her scarf back over her face. “If I knew everything, what would be the point in existing?”

“To teach?”

“I…” Thoria stopped and looked up at him. “You know what? Yeah. To teach. I never thought of that.”

They wandered a little more, poking light fun at each other’s expense, until they arrived at Telma’s bar. The sky was beginning to cloud over as they ducked inside, the smoky heat blowing their hair and hoods back.

Telma was, as always, overjoyed to see them, and served them more hot, spiced wine along with two steaming bowls of beef stew. The bar was quiet, and after a moment, Telma eased herself into a chair at their table.

“How’re things going with you two, then?” she asked, reaching to tweak their ears. “You’re both looking a lot happier than when I saw you last!”

Thoria’s mouth twisted into a smile that she tried to hide behind her tankard, and Link looked away, fighting his own grin. Telma laughed.

“Well, I can’t say I didn’t see that coming,” she winked. Link’s smile fell away.

“I don’t know what you mean,” he said, glancing about the bar. Telma tutted.

“You do, honey. You two can’t keep your eyes off each other.”

Link didn’t reply, avoiding the barwoman’s gaze. If that were true, if it were so obvious, he would have to step back when they were in public.

“No one can know,” Thoria murmured, causing him to turn to her, eyes wide. Behind Telma’s back, he raised his upturned palms, mouth open. She glanced at him, and back to Telma.

“No one can know,” she repeated. “I’m still a stranger here. The princess would not look favourably on…” she waved a delicate hand. “Well.”

Telma chuckled. “Don’t you worry, honey. The amount of secrets I hear in this room? What’s another one?” she patted Link’s shoulder and rose, ruffling Thoria’s hair as she moved past. “Feel free to be yourselves in here.”

Thoria smiled at Link as Telma headed for the bar and began to bustle about. “See? It’s not so bad. We can trust some people.”

“That’s hardly the point,” Link glowered at her. “It’s safest if we tell no one!”

“We can trust Telma,” Thoria shrugged.

“You could have told me you were planning on going against what’s best for us,” Link muttered. “How can I keep you safe if you go around telling people?”

Thoria raised an eyebrow. “I’m hardly singing it from the rooftops,” she said, coolly. “But I get your point.”

“No one else,” Link said, firmly. Thoria gave him a stern look at his tone, but she nodded, once.

“Alright.”

“If Zelda finds out-“

“I said, alright,” Thoria looked up at him from under her brows. It was a dark look that declared their conversation closed with no further words. But as Link sat back, she smiled, and took his hand, resting on the table top. “Seriously. I get it. I won’t tell another soul, even if they guess. But we are going to have to tell people at some point. We can’t go sneaking around forever.”

“I know,” Link looked away as Telma rummaged below the counter, her wide backside all that was visible over the wood. “But not yet. Give the princess more time to come around to the idea that you’re not going to destroy the kingdom.”

Thoria laughed. “That could take years.”

Link shrugged. “Hopefully not. And Navi will get used to the idea, too. Wherever she is.”

Thoria stroked the back of his hand with her thumb. “I’m sure she’ll be back soon. Didn’t you say time in the fae realm is different to here?”

“It is. But never mind. If she needs time there to sort her silly head out then that’s fine, so long as she learns to accept you.”

“And if she doesn’t?” Thoria tilted her head to one side, her eyes sad.

“Then that’s her problem.”

Thoria smiled. “Thank you. But… we are going to have to come clean at some point, probably soon. We can’t keep hiding, it’s not fair.”

“I know,” Link said, a little prickle of irritation running across his shoulders. “You don’t need to keep saying it. We’re safer if we’re secret.”

Thoria opened her mouth as if to retort, then shrugged. “You know best.”

Their meals finished, they stepped outside into the tiny, stone courtyard to find it covered with a thin layer of snow, the white flakes still spiralling down in lazy circles from a steel grey sky. Thoria laughed delightedly and began to spin on the spot, her face tilted upwards, her eyes closed as the snow landed on her face.

Link leaned on the railing and watched her, smiling softly. He couldn’t stay mad at her for telling Telma. She was right, he could trust the barwoman, and he knew Thoria wouldn’t risk what they had by telling anyone else. She was clever enough to know how quickly word could spread, how dangerous it would be. But that didn’t mean they could just tell anyone who guessed. And he would have to be more careful around others. Gossip was one thing, but he could not afford to give it weight.

He knew why Thoria wanted to be open about their relationship. He wanted to climb on a roof and declare his love for her for all of Hyrule to hear as well. She was right. It wasn’t fair. But it was the way of the world, and there was nothing he could do about it.

An idea formed. He reached out and caught Thoria’s wrist, pulling her towards him. For a moment, they were pressed together, and he remembered how before, he would blush and step away, shy and afraid of his feelings for her. Now, in the privacy of the little stone courtyard, he bent his head and kissed her, her nose cold against his cheek, her lips hot and soft.

“Come with me,” he said.

Together, they loped through the town towards the southern gate, sidestepping the hurrying townsfolk and crossing the drawbridge into Hyrule Fields, striding behind a group of laughing children that jostled each other.

Here, the snow was thickening, and Link led Thoria a little way from the walls before they stopped. She stared out at the landscape, the white ground blurring with the grey horizon. Behind her, Link bent, scooping a double handful of snow.

“You’ve got something on your cloak,” he said.

“Oh, piss off,” Thoria said, turning. “You didn’t even touch my-“

Link flung the snow and hit her square in the face. She stumbled and fell with a yelp. Link laughed and ducked as she seized two handfuls of snow and hurled it in his direction. As he ducked, Link snatched another handful of snow and pitched it her way. Thoria rolled to her feet and received a snowball to the arse for her trouble. Laughing, she dodged as Link crouched and fired several, small snowballs her way, scrambling in the snow for her own missiles. Link kept up his onslaught until a handful of snow caught him in the back of his hood.

Thoria laughed louder as he turned and saw the group of children they had followed, bundled in hats and scarves and gloves, bending and grabbing for the snow. Thoria hurried forward and grabbed his shoulder.

“You want a battle?” she challenged. “You’ve got ten minutes to build your defences!”

The children began to scramble in the snow, driving it into small mounds. Link dodged back a few paces and joined Thoria in shovelling snow to form a low wall. As soon as it was high enough to crouch behind, Thoria darted out, driving snow back towards their wall.

“Time’s up!” she called, and launched a snowball over the edge of their defences.

And thus commenced an almighty battle. Though their aim was better and their reach was longer, the sheer numbers of the children proved too much when they ran out from behind their cover, each carrying a cloak full of snow and dumped it over their heads.

Link laughed as Thoria yelped, the snow piling against her neck, flowing under her scarf, and allowed himself to be bowled over by the children, each seeking to aim a handful of snow at his face. He laughed again, only half fighting, revelling in the free, high-pitched squeals that only children could make, the sound of true, unbridled joy.

He sat up and caught two of the little terrors by the collar, hefting them up and tossing them gently against the slumping wall of snow. Looking up, he saw Thoria, bent double, with another of them on her back, spinning in circles whilst the child shrieked with wild laughter. The child slid off and she straightened, crossing her eyes and waggling her tongue, exaggerating her dizziness before falling over to gales of laughter.

“Hey, they’re here!”

A shout echoed across the Fields, and the children calmed somewhat, glancing over to where a group of adults gathered. They approached, collecting their respective charges, admonishing them for disturbing the grown-ups.

“It’s no trouble, really,” Thoria said, shaking snow off her scarf. “They’re only having fun.”

“It’s not a problem,” Link agreed, lowering his hood to brush snow out of his hair. The parents stopped and stared, taking in his face and hat. Instantly, the atmosphere changed, as the group huddled, bunching together, gazing at him, their eyes wide. One mother bent to her child and whispered, pointing, indicating just _who_ it was they had been playing with.

Link fixed a smile on his face and gestured to Thoria.

“Let’s go,” he said, through gritted teeth. “Nice to meet you,” he nodded to the group. They edged aside, their eyes full of wonder, the children sobering and staring as he passed, learning from their parents the very thing he hated most.

He was silent as they made their way back to Castle Town, tugging his hood up and hunching his shoulders. The breeze had become more of a wind, whipping down the narrow streets and biting into his skin, clinging to the dampness of his cloak.

Playing with the children had been freeing, but their joyful faces and carefree laughter make him think of Ilia and her baby. His shadow’s child. Was there a possibility that it would grow up to be like its father, or would Ilia’s influence shape it into a more normal creature, one that could pass for human? One that could possibly have friends, and grow up laughing and playing, completely unaware of its dark heritage?

“What’re you thinking?” Thoria asked as they went. Link scuffed his boots on the snow, glowering at the ground.

“Ilia’s child,” he admitted. “And what it could be.”

Thoria slowed. “Are you thinking about doing what’s right?”

He shot her a look. “There is no right in this. If I kill it, I have the murder of a child on my soul.”

“If it lives, it could cause no end of trouble,” Thoria countered. “What if it’s the source of the prophecy, and not me?”

Link raised his hands. “I don’t want to fight about this. We’ve both said our piece already.”

“But the prophecy…”

“Is utter shite,” Link glanced over his shoulder and took her hand, pulling her behind a large tree. He brought her close and enfolded her in a tight embrace. “It’s not real. Don’t worry about it. I don’t believe it, and neither should you.”

Thoria relaxed against him. “Alright. So long as you’re okay.”

“I will be with you,” he smiled down at her. “Come on.”

They reached the castle, stamping snow from their boots and hurrying through the corridors, seeking fire and dry clothes. As they ascended, Thoria piped up.

“You mentioned your friends will be getting married in the summer,” she said. “It’ll be in Ordon, won’t it?”

“Yeah,” Link replied, shouldering his door open and discarding his cloak. A fire was roaring in the hearth and he hurried towards it, tugging off his boots. Thoria imitated him.

“So, how far is it from here? Would you be gone long?”

“It’s about half a day’s ride,” Link replied. “Directly south, and hopefully you’d be with me.”

“That easy?”

“Well, you’ve got to go through the woods a little, but the path is very clear,” Link replied, pulling his tunic over his head.

“And Ilia’s not far from the village, so her father can get supplies to her?”

“No, it’s not far at all. Remember I told you?”

“Oh, yeah. I remember where you said it was.”

Link yawned and flopped back on his bed. Though his sleep had rarely been so good, he still found himself tired. Thoria curled up next to him and he slid his arms around her waist, a smile creeping across his face as he slipped into sleep.


	80. 80 - Link

As winter settled over Hyrule, life in the castle became somewhat slower. It was harder to get outside to train, the ground slick and icy, and more often than not covered in a foot of snow. Even Thoria seemed to tire of the endless white opalescence after a great many snowball fights. Link had shown off a little, building a castle out of snow, carefully sculpting the towers and turrets until his fingers were blue.

Thoria had teased him lightly for his insistence on perfection of his sculpture, and laughed every time he sneezed for the next week. It hadn’t stopped her admiring the snow castle, marvelling over the details and showing her praise with a warm hand on his shoulder, and a winning smile.

Sometimes, they sat in an empty room, Link playing soft songs on his lute whilst she sketched or read. Silence was something Link was accustomed to, and though there were a thousand different types of silence, the silence he had with Thoria was peaceful and warm. There was no need to talk, sometimes. It was enough just to be in the same room, each of them in their own little world, but connected by something intangible, an invisible bond that stretched to wherever the other was.

Without looking at her, he knew when she raised her hand to scratch her nose, or loop her hair over her ears. He knew her expression of deep concentration without having to turn to her. And it seemed she felt that same bond, chastising him gently for biting his nails when her back was to him.

His sleep had never been better. From the moment he closed his eyes to the moment he woke, for several days, he did not start awake in the middle of the night, shivering, chasing away the edges of a nightmare. Some nights, he didn't even dream.

On the first clear day in several days, they found themselves wandering, yet again, through the castle. There was little else to do, and Thoria seemed to have at last grown bored of the Library, listlessly thumbing through books before tossing them to the side.

“What’s through here?” Thoria tapped a knuckle on an arched door. “I’ve not been through here yet.”

“I’m not sure,” Link admitted.

“No better time than to find out,” Thoria winked at him and jiggled the handle. She frowned.

“Stuck?” Link asked.

“Just a bit stiff.”

Thoria gave the door a tug and it opened with only the lightest creak. Inside was a narrow corridor, the torches unlit and cold. A short way down was another door.

“Hm,” Thoria entered, Link right behind her. “Looks like this doesn’t get used much.”

“Your observation skills astound me,” Link said. Thoria snorted and swatted at him. Grinning, he evaded her hand and pulled the door closed behind them, throwing them into darkness. His heart jolted, and he found her hand in the blackness. Her skin was warm, and he let out his breath.

The door at the other end of the corridor opened without sound, and light flooded into the narrow corridor. They found themselves in a small, high ceilinged room, with marble walls and floor. The wall in front of them did not extend all the way to the others, but seemed to fold in on itself at the edges.

“The Throne Room,” Link said, staring up at the ceiling. “We’re behind the illusion wall.”

“Cool,” Thoria said, gazing about. “What a handy little escape route.” She eased the door closed with a click.

“That’s what it’s here for,” Link reminded her. “In case of another assault, Zelda can escape.”

“I remember.” Thoria tilted her head back and sang a soft note. It hummed around the small space. “Sound travels pretty well here, considering.”

“We’re in the Throne Room,” Link said. “Where the monarch addresses people?”

“I’m just thinking out loud, you don’t need to tell me everything.”

Link stuck his tongue out and she returned the favour, her eyes sparkling. She moved to the edge of the illusion wall and edged around. Link chuckled and followed her. He found her standing next to the throne, gazing down at it with a wry smile on her face.

“It’s very tempting,” she said, gesturing at the throne. “How much trouble would I be in if I actually did sit on it?”

Link said nothing, grinning. Thoria rolled her eyes.

“Genuine question! Or maybe I should just find out for myself.” She rested a hand on the arm of the throne, and Link stepped forward.

“It’s a bad idea,” he said. “If anyone saw you, you really would be in trouble. It’s not for the likes of us.”

“The likes of me, you mean,” Thoria grinned, impishly. “Her royal snootiness has got her eyes on you, remember?”

Link shuddered. “Don’t even joke about that, it’s the last thing I want.”

Holding his gaze, Thoria’s smile widened, and she sank down onto the purple cushion. Link drew a sharp breath and glanced about the chamber.

“What do you want?” Thoria asked, resting her chin on her hand. She raised an elegant leg and crossed it over the other, leaning to the side. Link smiled at her, and held out his hand.

“You,” he said. “Come on. It’s not worth the risk.”

She took his hand and pulled him close. He placed his hand on the back of the throne to steady himself as he bent his head to kiss her.

Thoria chuckled. “See? It’s fine, there’s no one-“

The door at the other end of the Throne Room opened. Link leapt away as Thoria bolted from the throne as though she had been electrocuted, snatched his hand and pelted for the illusion wall. They scrambled around and flattened themselves against it. Link’s heart was racing, and he raised a hand to cover his mouth, to stifle his pants. Two steps of feet sounded on the marble, amplified by the chamber’s walls.

“Following this, you have two hours free before you must attend a council meeting,” came Impa’s voice. “I would suggest you rest, Zelda.”

“I cannot rest.” The princess’s voice floated through the air. “I am so close, Impa. I can feel it. I know I will uncover the location if I just keep searching.”

“You must not forgo your sleep,” Impa’s voice was stern. “If you will not rest between your duties, I must insist that you do so at night, instead of furtively sneaking books into your bedchamber.”

“I am fine,” Zelda snapped. “I do wish you would stop mollycoddling me. Every person in this kingdom seems to want me to do things other than what I, myself, desire. I would hope that you, my most valued, my most trusted advisor, would allow me a little freedom to indulge myself.”

“Very well,” Impa sighed. “You know my concern for you is borne out of love.”

“I know, old friend. I know.”

Link caught Thoria’s eye and raised a finger to his lips, nodding at the door. They crept forward, and Link reached for the handle. He turned it. The door did not budge.

“What…?”

He tried again, pulling harder. The door rattled and he winced, glancing over his shoulder. Thoria made a face, and reached over to try herself.

“Stuck,” she whispered. “Shit on it!” she looked back. “I don’t suppose we could just leave the other way?”

“How would we explain why we’re here?” Link asked, his voice hushed. “No one is supposed to know about this place!”

Thoria swore again. “What do we do?”

Link glanced at the illusion wall. From the other side, he could still hear the princess and Impa talking, almost as if they were next to them. “I don’t know. I suppose we’ll just have to wait.”

“Joys,” Thoria put her back to the wall and slid down it, drawing her knees to her chest. Link joined her. Soon, the sound of the great doors opening reached them, and the shuffling and murmuring of a crowd came through.

“Welcome, everyone,” came Zelda’s voice. “I thank you for your attendance. Please, come forth, I will hear your words.”

“Oh, blimey,” Thoria muttered. “Listening to the common man whine. How exhilarating.”

“It’s better than nothing,” Link said. “We could be forced to sit in silence with nothing to do.”

Thoria cast a look his way. “Nothing?”

Link grinned. “You could sleep, I suppose. You don’t snore, so that’s a plus.”

Thoria grunted and slid further down the wall until she was lying down. She rolled away and began to stretch, arcing her back and pulling one of her legs until her toes touched her head.

“Show off,” Link muttered. Thoria made a rude hand gesture, which he returned.

Time crawled by, and as commoner after commoner voiced their various worries, Thoria slid through a series of complicated stretches, soundless and lithe. Link couldn’t take his eyes off her. Every movement was controlled, powerful… enticing. He swallowed as she sat up, her legs apart, and bent first to touch one foot, then the other. She glanced up and saw him watching. Her eyes flicked down and she grinned.

“Something on your mind?”

Link shook his head.

“Liar,” she said. “Tell me.”

“Like you don’t know,” he murmured.

“I suppose I do. Every room in the castle,” Thoria said, with a sultry smile. “When else are we going to get the chance to hit the Throne Room?”

Link found his mouth dry as he took in her figure. The sounds of the commons seemed muted over the beat of his heart.

“We shouldn’t,” he cautioned. “I’m not exactly the…” he waved his hand in an inelegant gesture. “…Quietest of people.”

Thoria shrugged easily. “True. But I’m sure you could be, if you wanted. When have you ever been one to refuse a challenge?” she cocked her head to one side. “Only if you want to.”

It was too good of an opportunity to miss. And she was right, he couldn’t resist the challenge, though that was not all there was to it. She was like a drug, and with each look, each touch, each kiss, he craved her more. Wordlessly, he nodded, and lay back as Thoria crawled to him, closing his eyes as she kissed him, and her hands moved towards his belt.


	81. 81 - Zelda

“Is there anything else of note?” Zelda asked, lowering herself onto her throne.

“Just trifles,” Impa replied. “A pair of guards have been dispatched to deal with a wolfos that is ravaging sheep in the east, another has gone south to investigate the disappearance of a child from the Ordonian Province, and a convoy has gone to collect the last of the fish from Zora’s Domain before they go into hibernation.”

“Very well. I have been thinking that we need to increase our army,” Zelda murmured, as the commons began to file into the Throne Room. “Until I discover the location of the artefact, and it is in my hands, I do not want to risk an assault by Lord Dool in a fit of jealousy.”

“Our army is as large as can be, with the numbers of trained soldiers and knights that we have,” Impa said.

“Then promote the recruits,” Zelda said. “All those in training. We can source new recruits at any time, but my army must grow.”

“Zelda, the recruits are too green,” Impa said. “If we promote them now, there is no telling what will happen if a battle does come to our door. They lack discipline, they do not have true formation, and most are still too excited by the idea of fighting.”

“A little lack of discipline matters not, when numbers are what I require,” Zelda replied. “See that it is done.”

Impa sighed. “As you command, Highness.”

The commons clustered together at the back of the Throne Room, their faces turned towards their princess. Zelda let her gaze pass over them, seeking no details of an individual face. To her, they were but a sea of flesh circles above a muddle of dull homespun clothing. They stood behind a thick, velvety rope, watched keenly by her eagle-eyed guards. One by one, they were brought before her, treading the purple carpet with nervous feet, their eyes on the ground before them, perhaps risking a look up to the royalty that sat before them.

Zelda stifled a yawn. Her sleep had been troubled, and she had once again dreamed of Castle Town aflame, as Link left her side and ran into a burning building to be swallowed by fire. The stranger behind her, her face terrible to behold.

The princess rose and gave her traditional greeting to the crowd. As each of the commoners stopped and knelt before her, Zelda placed a calm and benevolent smile on her face, though her mind was far from the chamber. It was outside, where it was cold and snow-laden, where her fur lined boots sunk into the white carpet, crunching and glittering. It was in the sky, icy blue, it was in the trees, bare of leaves. She imagined she was not alone, but warmed by her Chosen Hero’s presence. It seemed as though, to her, she could feel him close by, but she knew that was just her aching heart, longing for his presence as her people whined and complained, and she gave her measured advice.

“So, you see, your Highness, my family will struggle to pay the extra tax this season,” the commoner before her was saying. Zelda pulled herself out of her reverie with difficulty. “Food’s short as it is, and it looks to be a heavy winter. I don’t rightly know how we’ll survive.”

Zelda focused on him. He was a short, thin man, wrapped in a patchy cloak over homespun clothes that looked to have been mended so often they were more thread than cloth. His gloves had holes in them.

“I understand your predicament,” Zelda said. “Truly, I do. However, the extra tax this season has been levied for a good reason. What is your occupation?”

“I-I am a farmer, your Highness.”

“Then you must have seen how the yield this year has been somewhat poorer than in the years previous,” Zelda said. She pursed her lips. It must be the prophecy. The stranger’s evil work, blighting her fields! If only she could find a way to prove it, or to rid herself of the troublesome wretch without suspicion falling at her fair feet! “Please understand, there are many of you sailing the same waters. It grieves me to have to do this, but for the good of the kingdom, we must all come together to support one another.”

“My youngest has the fever,” the man said, gazing imploringly at her knees. “We need the extra rupees to buy her medicine. If we don’t, she may not survive.”

Zelda closed her eyes for a fraction of a second. It was always the way. When the commons did not receive the answer they wanted from her, they resorted to wheedling, begging, or conjuring sick children to stir her heart. When she was younger, more naïve, her heart had bled at such stories, and she had willingly granted their desires. It was only with the increase in sick children or dying parents or wounded husbands that she began to realise that perhaps, the commons were not as honest as she was.

“My understanding is with you,” she said. “And my heart grieves for your child. But I cannot grant your request. The kingdom has many an expense to pay, and if we are to be protected, we must all join the cause.”

The farmer’s eyes flashed, but he rose and bowed to her. “Your Highness.” He took two steps back and turned, striding the length of the Throne Room and barging out through the grand doors. Zelda frowned. It was customary to take _three_ steps away from the throne before turning, representing the three goddesses and their connection with the royal family. She sighed. There was little she could do, but the slight irked her.

She nodded at the guard at the foot of the steps to her throne, and he signalled for the next to be brought before her. As a woman with a babe in arms detached herself from the crowd to shuffle forth, Zelda fidgeted. Here was another trick the commons played upon her, trying to entice favour from her by revealing the presence of an infant. Perhaps it was to remind her that children were innocent, and would suffer if it were not for her good grace? She frowned. She would not be fooled. No matter the request, she would deny this common woman, for daring to think she could sway her judgement! The nerve, the audacity, the…

“Y’ighness,” the woman spoke with a thick accent. Zelda chewed the inside of her cheek. This woman must be from the furthest corner of Hyrule, if she was even Hylian at all. “This ‘ere babe were left on m’doorstep. No clue t’oo it belongs teh. We gots no room in our house, I gots six little’uns already. I beseech y’ighness, a small sum o’ rupees to ‘elp care for ‘im.”

Zelda folded her hands in her lap. Always, it was something. Money, favours, a blessing, always these commoners wanted something from her! It was never to thank her for her protection, to express gratitude for all that she gave up, day after day!

“This is an unfortunate circumstance,” she said, carefully. “Under different conditions, I would be glad to assist you. However, it is simply not possible, the kingdom does not have the funds to spare.”

“’M only askin’ for a bit!” the woman said. “Jus’ twenny rupees, or firty! I jus’ wanna put some food in ‘is ‘ungry mouf.”

Zelda clenched her fists.

“I am not accustomed to being interrupted,” she said, coolly. The woman dropped to her knees, begging forgiveness, but Zelda waved her words away.

“There is a perfectly good orphanage in Kakariko Village,” she said. “Take the infant there, and it shall be cared-“

A sudden, muffled yelp sounded from behind her. She felt her cheeks colour and her words stuttered and died on her lips. The sound was unmistakeable. A cry of passion, quickly stifled, as though someone had bitten off the end of the sound. She cast her eyes at Impa, who gave her a curious and concerned look. She had heard it too. With a nod, Impa edged towards the gap in the illusion wall as Zelda struggled to regain her place in her speech.

“I… forgive me. The orphanage in Kakariko will take the child off your hands, and shall be cared for there.”

“If it please y’ighness,” the woman said, speaking to the floor, her arms cradling the swaddled baby. “An orfnage ain’t no place for a wee babe.”

“Unless you wish to care for him yourself, it is the only place,” Zelda replied, curtly. She waved a hand, dismissing the woman. She glanced to the side and caught Impa’s eye as she slipped out of sight behind the illusion wall.

Next came an elderly couple, who asked what was possibly the simplest request Zelda had heard in months. They wished for a young, strong man to chop firewood for them, as neither could heft an axe, and they lived far from other people. They promised a hot meal to the kind man who would aid them. Zelda was so taken aback and charmed by the silly askance that she granted it almost without thought, instructing one of her young guards to accompany the couple home and chop as much wood as they needed.

Seemingly emboldened by her generosity, the commons began to creep forward, their requests ranging from the simple to the absurd. Zelda endured it for half an hour before her mind began to wander once more, and she called a halt to the proceedings.

Zelda rose and brushed imaginary dust from the front of her dress as the commons filed out. She watched them go impassively, her mind elsewhere, already upstairs in the Library, seeking out tomes and scrolls that she knew contained the answers she sought. There was a soft noise behind her.

Impa returned, her eyes dark. Zelda leaned into her.

“Anything?”

“I found no one,” she said. “But I found this.” She raised her hand and opened it. On her palm was a long, black hair. 


	82. 82 - Link

“That was fun,” Thoria said, giggling, as they hurried along the hall.

“Fun?” Link echoed. His heart was still racing, his mind dizzy with lingering bliss and apprehension. “We almost got caught!”

“But we didn’t, I got the door open,” Thoria said, with a smirk. Her smile faded as she looked at him. “I thought you enjoyed it.”

“I did,” Link said. He took her arm and pulled her through a door, coming into an empty reception room. “I really did. But it was too dangerous. If we’d been seen-“

“We weren’t, though,” Thoria said. She pulled her hand out his grip, her eyes softening. “Hey, if you didn’t want to, you should have said. I can’t read your mind, and I really don’t want to make you do things you’re not comfortable with.”

Link clenched his jaw. “I didn’t say that, but that’s not the point,” he said. “It was too risky. I am as much at fault as you, but-“

“Fault?” Thoria raised her eyebrows. She folded her arms and stuck her hip out. “Fault nothing! _You_ were the one who couldn’t keep his mouth shut.”

“I tried my best,” he said, glaring. “It’s not my fault I am the way I am.”

“Oh, boo, you failed a challenge,” she said, and shook her head. “Forget it. We got away fine, so what’s the problem?”

“The problem,” Link growled. “Is that we _almost got caught_. What about that don’t you understand? How am I supposed to protect you if Zelda finds out? Forget what she’ll do to me, she’ll imprison you!”

“On what grounds?” Thoria threw her hands in the air. “We sleep together, so what? It’s normal! People do it all the time!”

“Is that all this is to you?” Link balled his fists. “Normal as it might be wherever you’re from, here, in Hyrule, Chosen Knights shouldn’t be sleeping with people who could be an enemy!”

Thoria opened her mouth, rage sweeping her face.

“I’ve done _everything_ I can to fit in,” she snapped. “Everything! And I’m not scared of your damn princess. She’s got no right to harm either of us for us being together!”

Link wanted to agree. He knew what Thoria had done to fit in, all she had learned, the efforts she had made, the stares and whispers she had endured, even the assassin. And he loved her. Desperately. But his fear at their near miss condensed into anger.

“Don’t be stupid,” he snapped. “She’s got more power than anyone in the kingdom! She can do whatever she wants.” He stepped closer, jabbing a finger at Thoria’s chest. “If she caught even the slightest whisper that something was happening between us, she’d kill you to stop the prophecy!”

“I’d like to see her try,” Thoria sniffed, infuriatingly casual. She flipped her hair back. “If this is too hard for you, and you don’t want to do this any more, then fine. Just say it.”

“I never said that,” Link said, his heart lurching at the thought.

Thoria’s glare softened a moment. “You never said the other thing, either.”

Link remained silent. He knew what she meant. She wanted him to say it. Those three words. If he did, their fight would be over, and they would fall into each other’s arms, understanding and forgiving. It would become truly real, what they had, and there would be no more doubt, no more suspicion, no more hiding.

But he couldn’t bring himself to do it. If he said it, the spell would surely break, and she would run, as they all had, eventually. He _did_ love her, surely she knew that! To say it aloud was dangerous. As dangerous as being with her, perhaps moreso. If anyone heard…

He raised his hands, trying to calm himself, and her. “Thoria, that’s not the point.” Her eyes flashed, fury and pain. Link felt as though his own heart was needled with ice, but he forged on. “We have to be more careful.”

“To hell with being careful,” Thoria snapped. “I don’t want to keep hiding! I’m sick of all this sneaking around, skulking behind doors, always looking over my shoulder! I don’t _care_ if the princess puts stock in this bullshit prophecy, that’s her problem!”

“And mine,” Link replied, stiffening. “It’s fine for you, you don’t have to watch what you say and do all the time. Whatever arse you make of yourself reflects on me, and me only! But if I mess up, I’m toast! I’m her Chosen fucking Knight! You don’t have to toe the line, knowing that she wants you, not being able to tell her no! I have to keep her happy, and at arm’s length! You have no idea how hard that is when I’m juggling keeping you a secret as well!”

“Oh, don’t I?” Thoria unfolded her arms and placed her hands on her hips. “You think I don’t know about keeping secrets?”

“What do you mean?” Link asked, the back of his hand prickling. Thoria curled her lip.

“This,” she said, indicating them both. “ _Us_. I’m having to keep it secret as much as you. You think I like knowing that, for all the world’s knowledge, you’re a free and eligible bachelor? You think I like have to endure all the constant flirting from every other woman? I should be able to tell them to fuck off, you’re not free game.”

“Well, you can’t,” Link snapped. “You’re not thinking straight. I’d have thought a woman as clever as you would know better.”

“I have needs too,” she said. “And one of them is the need to be free. I don’t want to hide forever, it’s like I’m in a fucking cage!”

“So? If you go parading this about, you’ll be in a real one soon enough,” Link replied. “Stop being stupid and just think for once!”

Thoria tensed, as tight as a wound spring. She was close to losing her temper, and Link almost wanted her to. He wanted to shout, to scream at her, to make her see that he was right. How was she so blind? Why was she so determined to put them both in danger?

She stepped towards him, her eyes hard.

“I want to tell people,” she said. “No more of this hiding.”

Link curled his lip and pushed his face close to hers. “I don’t give a shit what you want. This stays a secret.”

Thoria raised her chin.

“Fine,” she spat. “You carry on. I can see exactly where I stand with you. I’m done with this conversation.” She turned on her heel and marched out of the room, slamming the door so hard the paintings rattled.

Furious, Link picked up a chair and hurled it across the room with a shout, where it smashed against the wall. He kicked the sofa, overturning it, and pounded his fists into the back of it, until feathers and wood flew about his head, and his knuckles were bleeding.

Exhausted, he sat back on the floor, his hands burning.

Thoria had been with them for so long now, and had done nothing to warrant the princess’s continued suspicion. The only thing that prevented her from being accepted, fully, was the infernal prophecy! Zelda had put too much faith in it, and even now, when Thoria proved herself over and over, she still refused to trust her. But… it wasn’t just the prophecy.

Link grimaced. He wanted to be able to love Thoria without fear of reprisal. But he knew what jealousy did to a person. And he was afraid of what a jealous princess with all the power in the land might do if she found out. All her wisdom would count for nothing if her heart was broken.

He could not put Thoria at risk. If the princess even suspected something was amiss, he knew he would never see her again. And he could not bear the thought of it. Nor could he bear the thought of losing her through such petty arguments. He knew it would all be resolved if he just said the words. But he couldn’t. It was too dangerous. The words were too powerful.

Perhaps it was better if she believed he didn’t love her. It would be easier for her, if he pushed her away. But he couldn’t do that, either. The thought of being apart tore his heart to shreds.

He heaved himself to his feet, picking splinters from the backs of his hands. He wandered through the castle, peering into their alcove, the Library, even going so far as to check their secret spot under the giant tree in the grounds. The blanket and pillows were still there, but Thoria was not. When he tried the door to her rooms, he found it locked, and she did not answer when he knocked.

He sighed, and made his slow way to his own rooms, where he played a mournful tune on his lute, waiting for the sun to set. He knew how she felt. He too wanted to scream at the injustice of it all, forced to sneak and hide, fearful that any misstep would have them dragged over the coals.

XXXXXXX

He woke in darkness to Thoria sliding under the covers with him. She huddled close and put her arms around his neck.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “You’re right.”

Link kissed her, pulling her in close. “I’m sorry too.”

They lay silently a while, listening to each other’s heartbeats. After a while, Thoria stirred.

“You’re right,” she said, again. “It’s safer to keep this a secret. But let me say this. The king is not getting any better. One day, he will die. Hopefully it won’t be for a long time yet. But when he does, you’ll be in as much danger as me. A royal bed is a more dangerous place than a prison cell, especially if you go to it unwillingly.”

Link had to agree. “What should we do, then?”

“I don’t know,” Thoria said. “We’ll have to think of something. But not now. I believe I owe you a better apology.”

“How would-“ Link stopped as she leaned in and kissed him. “Ah.”

“Is that sufficient?” she asked, her tone playful.

Link chuckled. “Not nearly enough,” he said. “Keep going.”


	83. 83 - Zelda

Zelda spread her parchment over her desk, the scrolls and papers overflowing, sliding to the floor. She was so close, she could almost taste it! Engravings of the artefact, a small, dense orb that one artist had seen fit to draw sparkles upon, clustered at a corner of her desk, and descriptions of the same clumped nearby in a hasty pile.

A basket full of garish yellow envelopes sat beside her desk, all from Lord Dool. She did not look at them, they no longer mattered. He no longer mattered. He was nothing but an irritant, a pest to be ignored, a roach living in the walls of her mind. A permanent resident, swatted only when he ventured too far into the open. Zelda curled her lip and focused on her papers.

Sightings of the artefact appeared randomly in her history books, including a legend from hundreds of years ago. It was this very legend that had first caught her interest, the legend of a Gerudo man who had acquired the artefact and used it to gather a vast army of women and monsters, before he conquered the Temple of Time and stole a piece of the Triforce.

Ganondorf.

Zelda shivered, the prickle along her skin not entirely unpleasant. If Ganondorf had found and used this artefact before he obtained the Triforce of Power, perhaps she must undertake the same path to be deemed worthy of such might? She would have to undertake the same trials that he once did, whatever they were. Her ancient texts hinted at these trials, but they seemed nonsensical.

“Follow a broken path into sharpness. Ride a white wave into darkness. Seek ye unusual companionship, and give up that which thee has held dear for a lifetime.”

She shook her head. The words could mean anything at all, and really, made no sense to her. But she would have to figure out what they meant, if she was to even have a hope of learning to use the artefact to strengthen her army. Zelda grimaced.

It was no wonder Ganon had such a strong army, if he had used the artefact as well as the Triforce of Power.

She sighed. Perhaps she and her past incarnations had been too hasty when it came to judging Ganondorf for his actions. Never had they actually tried to speak with him, to reason, to come to an arrangement of sorts. She understood the burning hatred he felt, for over thousands of years he had been villainised, scorned, discriminated against, and defeated, over and over and over. Anyone would become enraged. Anyone would want power.

This she understood. No one in the kingdom, it seemed, understood her, or her wants, or needs. Her subjects viewed her as a means to get what they wanted. The nobility viewed her as weak and stupid, undermining her every decision. Even her own father put no faith in her wisdom, nor cared for her wants as a person. He cared only for the realm. He lived to serve it.

And as much as she herself lived to serve the realm, Zelda could not stop her desires from burning within her. With the artefact, and eventually the Triforce of Power in her possession, she would be the greatest ruler Hyrule had ever known. She would have no need of a husband to make her rulings for her, her husband would be a choice she made, and he would rule by her side.

She smiled at the thought. But before she could indulge herself with thoughts on what her wedding dress would look like, she bent back to her paperwork.

A soft knock came at her door, and Impa slipped inside.

“Have you promoted the recruits?” Zelda asked, not looking up.

“I have,” Impa replied, coming to stand before her. “General Balla has a few choice thoughts on the matter.”

“Never mind him,” Zelda waved her hand, her quill balanced between her gloved fingers. “I am the princess. I have thought this through most carefully.”

“I am sure.” Impa’s tone was unreadable and Zelda squinted up at her. Her aide’s eyes were impassive. “There have already been some… problems.”

“Such as?”

Impa sighed. “Clumsiness, mostly. There have been falls, a fumbling of weapons. Some new soldiers have managed to injure each other already. There has been a misfired arrow that caused a trained soldier to lose an eye. Another green guard tripped and managed to send his spear through the back of one of his fellows, missing his heart by inches. Yet another almost lost a foot, dropping an axe.”

Zelda nodded. “It is to be expected, in the beginning. We shall simply have to keep a better watch on them.”

Impa shook her head. “Zelda. You must not promote green recruits before they are ready. They will end up causing more harm than good.”

“Add some more wood to the fire,” Zelda said, glancing back to her desk. “I feel a chill.”

“As you command.” Impa moved away. She paused at the fireplace. “Your ornament is damaged,” she said, indicating the figurine of the three goddesses and the Triforce. “I shall send for a replacement.”

“No, leave it,” Zelda said, absently. The cracks on Nayru had grown somewhat over the last few weeks, but Zelda found she didn’t mind. When she found her power, she would fix the little statue herself, and the Goddess of Wisdom would be more glorious than ever before.

Zelda picked up a heavy tome and began to leaf through the pages, barely glancing at the words on each before moving on to the next. Then, her triforce tingled. She flipped back and began to scan more carefully. When her eyes found the words she thought she had read, she turned to the back of the book to check the publication date. Then, she checked the dates of the other legends, the other sightings, the other rumours.

It was there.

“Snowpeak Mountain,” she whispered, her fingers tracing the words. “ _Here lyeth a stone of great power and might, secreted away behind doors of stone. No key to open the lock, no tool shall chip the surface_.”

She read on, her eyes widening. She read the passage twice more before Impa returned to her side, and she closed the book with a snap.

“I have found it,” she said, smiling up at her old friend. “Months of searching, and I have found it! It is in the Snowpeak Mountains!”

“Excellent!” Impa said, and Zelda could see the smile in her eyes. “How do you propose to obtain it?”

“I shall…” Zelda paused, and her smile turned wicked. “I shall have to send Ser Link. He is the only man I can trust to return this artefact to me safely.”

Impa raised her eyebrows. “What of Lady Thoria? A journey to Snowpeak and back will take weeks, if not longer with this weather. He is still charged with watching her.”

“I am most keenly aware,” Zelda said. “Lady Thoria will journey with him.”


	84. 84 - Link

Link awoke to soft sunlight and the autumn smell of Thoria’s hair. He smiled, unwilling to open his eyes just yet. He was warm, and comfortable, and his sleep had been undisturbed once more. He ran his hand lazily along her thigh, and she stirred. Link pulled her closer, burying his face in her shoulder.

“Morning,” he said, his voice muffled.

Thoria murmured something unintelligible and curled up around his arm, entwining her fingers with his. Suddenly, she stiffened.

“What?” Link said, concern drawing him unwillingly from the fringes of sleep. Thoria said nothing, then bolted from the bed as a series of sharp raps sounded at the door.

“Shit,” Link cursed, as Thoria snatched her clothes from the floor and bounded over the bed to the other side, swearing fluently under her breath. Link barely had time to appreciate her form before the door opened. Thoria threw herself to the floor as Link yanked the covers up to his chest.

Two guards entered, flanking councillor Llewellyn. The councillor took in Link’s room in one sweep of his soft eyes.

“Please accept my apologies,” he said. “I did not mean to call on you in your personal chambers, but it is past the ninth hour, and her Royal Highness has requested your presence."

“Uh,” Link floundered. He could hear Thoria struggling into her clothes on the other side of the bed. Resisting the urge to look, he faked a loud coughing fit, and forced himself to look at the councillor instead. “Of course. I’ll be there as soon as I’m dressed.” He waited a moment, but the councillor did not move.

“Her Royal Highness has requested you are to attend to her immediately,” Llewellyn said softly. “Please, make haste.”

Link allowed the covers to fall to his waist. “I don’t think it would be appropriate for me to attend her Highness in my current state,” he said, acidly. “Can you give me a moment to make myself presentable, please?”

“Our orders are to bring you,” one of the guards said, gruffly. Link shot him a look, and the guard shuffled his feet. “Ser.”

“At least turn your backs, then,” Link said. “I wouldn’t want you getting jealous.” He held their gaze, one by one, until they all, reluctantly, turned away. Link flung the covers to one side and rolled to where Thoria was hiding. Only, she wasn’t there. He looked up, and saw his balcony door swinging shut behind the curtains with an almost silent _click_. Outside, snow was falling.

Shaking his head, Link threw on his clothes and tugged on his boots, snatching up his hat.

“Shall we?” he said. “I wouldn’t want to keep her Highness waiting.”

“We have one more stop to make,” Llewellyn said, as they began to walk down the corridor. “Her Highness has requested that we bring Lady Thoria as well.”

Link’s heart shot into his throat. _Thoria_. In this weather, there was nowhere to go from his balcony unless one had proper climbing equipment, or a weighty pair of balls. Link suppressed a nervous laugh. He knew Thoria was certainly lacking one of the two, in the literal sense.

Even if she could get back onto the roof without being seen, or to another balcony with an open door, she would have to overtake them to get to her rooms. He had to stop Llewelyn.

“Lady Thoria may not be in her rooms,” Link said. “If it’s past the ninth hour, She may be at breakfast, or…”

“Her Highness thought the same,” Llewellyn said. “By her royal suggestion, we have checked the castle. Lady Thoria is nowhere to be found, so she must be in her rooms.”

Link swallowed. Did Zelda know? Was this why they were being called upon? He took a steadying breath. It was no secret that the princess had developed feelings for him, and she was much more prone to anger than she had been before…

Thoria would be in danger. Zelda had a good heart, but that wouldn’t stop her from locking Thoria away if she felt she was a threat… the prophecy still had not come to fruition, after all, and both Zelda and Navi were convinced Thoria was the dark stranger cursed to bring destruction to Hyrule…

He had to do something. If he could get to Thoria first, he could warn her to hide, to get away while there was still time…

“She may have moved on?” Link suggested to Llewellyn. “It’s a big castle, after all, so you might have missed…”

They rounded a corner, and Link saw a guard outside Thoria’s door.

“We left him here in case she returned, or left,” Llewellyn said quietly. “She was to attend her Highness at her earliest convenience, should she have appeared without our finding her.” He stepped softly to the guard. “Has Lady Thoria returned?”

“Not seen her,” the guard said. Link took a breath. She may have escaped his room, but…

The door opened. Thoria poked her head out, looking sleepy and dishevelled, in her favourite, satin sleeping shirt. Link’s jaw dropped.

“Hello,” Thoria said, uncertainly. She glanced at the guards. “Am I in trouble?”

Llewellyn recovered first.

“No, my Lady,” he said. “We have come to inform you that her Royal Highness, Princess Zelda, has requested your presence, along with that of Ser Link. Forgive us, we appear to have woken you?”

“Yeah,” Thoria said. “I was up all night.” She glanced at Link. “Reading.”

“We called on you earlier,” one of the guards said. “You didn’t answer.”

“I’m a heavy sleeper,” she replied, coolly. “Excuse me.”

Thoria shut the door with a snap. Llewellyn frowned at the wood. Link could almost see the cogs in his mind turning…

“Lovely weather we’re having,” he blurted out.

Llewellyn just had time to give him an incredulous glance before the door opened again and Thoria came out. Her hair was brushed and she was dressed in her customary black trousers and shirt.

“That is very informal,” Llewellyn said, glancing disapprovingly at Thoria’s clothes.

“I thought we were in a hurry?” Thoria responded. “Ser Link,” she smiled at him. “I hope you are well this fine morning?”

Link nodded, and fell into step beside her as the little party began to move for the Throne Room.

“How…?” he asked.

“Shh,” Thoria said, quietly. “Later.”

They walked in silence the rest of the way. Link’s anxiety heightened with each step.

They entered the resplendent throne room. The enormous windows let in the sunlight, glancing off the marble floor and walls. Guards stood to attention by the door and walls, and at the foot of the stairs that led to the throne.

Zelda sat there in a dress of purple and white. As they approached, Link could see she looked tired. No, not tired, he thought as they stopped and Llewellyn announced them. She looked exhausted. Link knelt, and Thoria followed suit.

They stayed on their knees as Zelda rose. There were bags under her eyes, and she seemed to have lost weight. Nonetheless, her pose was as regal as ever, and her eyes were sharp.

“Rise,” she said, and she smiled at Link, who returned it with relief. Zelda offered a cursory nod to Thoria, who inclined her head.

“I must apologise for bringing you both here so suddenly,” Zelda said. “However, I have discovered something very important. I have found, during my research, word of an ancient artefact. An artefact that is extremely valuable, and has the potential to greatly increase the power of our army, should we ever have cause to need it. Ser Link,” she turned to him. “I believe I mentioned it to you before. I have discovered its location.”

Zelda sat back down and beckoned them closer. Link came forward, Thoria half a pace behind him.

“This artefact is hidden in the Snowpeak Mountains,” Zelda continued. “Link, you have ever served us and completed the tasks to which we have set you. I would ask that you journey to Snowpeak and retrieve it for us.”

A cold chill shivered down Link’s spine. A flash of darkness sprang to mind, and the ghosts of iron manacles gripped his wrists.

“It would be my honour,” he said.

Zelda smiled, warmly. “I know,” she said. “We are most fortunate to have you.” Her smile lessened as she turned to Thoria.

“Lady Thoria. You are still a stranger to us,” she said, and her voice held none of the warmth it had when addressing Link. “However, you have given us no cause to believe you bear us ill-will. From reports I have gathered from my staff, and from Ser Link, it would seem you are a studious, clever individual, who is skilled not just with her mind, but with weapons as well.”

“Thank you,” Thoria said.

“As Ser Link has been given a task that will take him far from here, possibly for weeks, I am left pondering. What shall we do with you whilst he is gone? He is charged with watching you, after all.”

“Your Highness,” Thoria said. “I would do whatever it is that you charge me with. You said yourself I am skilled. Whatever the task, I would be glad to do.”

Link glowed inside. Her speech was perfect, and her body language deferential and polite. The thought of being away from her for however long it took to get this artefact was galling.

But the goddesses were on his side.

“I would not have Ser Link forsake any of his duties,” Zelda said. “Lady Thoria, I would charge you to accompany him in his quest, and assist in returning this artefact to the castle, and to me.” Zelda smiled, and to Link, it seemed genuine. “You may consider this a test, Lady Thoria. A means of proving yourself to me. A servant of Darkness may use this artefact for themselves… however, I am confident that no such thing will happen.”

Thoria remained silent, but she bowed deeply. Link bit the inside of his cheek. He knew the set of her shoulders. She was furious.

But she raised her head with a pleasant smile, and shining eyes. “I would bring honour to you, your Highness,” she said, before carefully taking a step backward.

“You are dismissed,” Zelda said. “Ser Link, the map and information are in my chambers. Attend to me there in an hour.”

Link nodded, and backed away, falling into step beside Thoria as they left the throne room. Without speaking, they both headed over to the corridor that would lead them to their alcove behind the tapestry.

Reaching the alcove, Thoria kicked at the air.

“Speaking to me like some child,” she spat. “Suggesting that I am a thief! The cheek of it!”

Link raised his hands. “I’m sure she didn’t mean-“

“Yes, she did,” Thoria said, bitterly. “She still doesn’t trust me.”

“Thoria, it’ll take time,” Link said. “She’s giving you a chance to-“

“Be babysat by you,” she cut in. “She doesn’t want me out of your sight.”

“That’s not a bad thing,” Link said, stepping closer to her. He put a hand on her arm. “I’m glad. I don’t know what I would have done if I didn’t get to see you for weeks.”

“Hmph.” Thoria turned her head away, but allowed herself to be pulled closer. Link put his arms around her and held her tightly.

“She’ll come around,” Link said. “We just need to give it more time. She’ll realise the prophecy’s not about you soon enough.”

“And what about us?” Thoria said, quietly. “I can win her over a hundred times, but you know she won’t take kindly to what we have.”

Link was silent for a long time. He stroked Thoria’s arm and swayed gently as she relaxed into him. Finally, he spoke.

“I don’t know,” he said. “It’s for the best if we just keep it quiet.”

“How long for?” Thoria said. Link sighed and let his arms drop, stepping away. Thoria raised her hands to where his arms hand been and hugged herself. “I don’t want to keep hiding.”

“We’ve discussed this,” Link said. “I don’t want to talk about it any more.”

Thoria nodded, and moved away, slipping out from behind the tapestry. Link swore under his breath, his irritation ebbing away. He took a moment to collect his thoughts, shadows gathering at the edges of his consciousness. No matter what solution came to mind, there was nothing that would stop him hurting Zelda if he admitted the way he felt about Thoria. The fact that he had hidden it from her for so long would only make it worse. All he could do was keep it secret, to keep Thoria safe.

All he had to do was tell her, tell Thoria how he truly felt, and then everything would be okay. They could face the princess together. What had stopped him? Was it one last thread of fear? That in saying the words, it made them real, and made the danger all the more tangible? For if he admitted it, aloud, there was no turning back. He could still protect her. Save her.

When Link came out from behind the tapestry, Thoria was nowhere to be seen. Sighing, Link began a slow walk to Zelda’s chambers, his mind full of flickering memories of iron manacles, of shadows, and of pain.


	85. 85 - Zelda

Zelda sat primly on one of the sofas in her reception room. Her hands were folded neatly in her lap, her ankles crossed elegantly. Her hair had been brushed until it shone, and Impa had sprayed a delicate perfume on her throat. It smelled of spring flowers and cherry blossom. It was her favourite.

Nervously, she ran through the plan in her mind again. It was a risk sending Link to get the artefact, but it was a risk sending him on any mission. She tried to steady her breathing, to call on the Triforce of Wisdom to guide her.

“Is this right?” she said to the air. “Help me. Tell me this is what I need to do to protect Hyrule.”

There was no answer. Zelda sighed, and then sat up straighter as she sensed something. Someone was coming.

She glanced at Impa, who nodded, and slipped to the door in a hush of swirling cloak. She left, and returned not half a minute later with Link, tall and handsome. He bowed.

“Your Highness,” he said.

“Ser Link,” Zelda smiled, suddenly breathless. Had he grown taller in the last hour? She waved at Impa. “You may leave us.”

Impa nodded and left without a word. Zelda patted the sofa seat next to her. Link hesitated, his eyes darting to the sofa opposite.

“Come now,” Zelda said, softly. “We have known each other for a long time. There’s no need to be quite so formal.” She patted the seat again. Link hesitated a moment longer, then came forwards and eased himself onto the sofa, about two feet away from her. Zelda bit down on her frustration. He was observing the proper courtesies.

She turned to face him. “Thank you for coming to see me,” she said. He was staring at the low table in front of them, staring at the map. Zelda took the opportunity to study his face.

There was a shadow on his jaw of coarse, dark stubble. He hadn’t shaved, and Zelda wished that he would. There was a tiny scar just below his earlobe, and another near the corner of his eye. His eyes were a startling, sky blue, and framed with lashes so long they almost looked feminine. The muscles under his tunic moved as he shifted, pointing at the tray of cups and teapot.

“May I?” he asked.

“Oh, let me,” Zelda said, leaning over and pouring for them both.

“Thank you,” Link said, as he accepted a cup. “I never would have expected to be served tea by a princess.” He smiled with only half his mouth, one corner quirking upwards.

Zelda laughed. “It is a privilege reserved only for special people,” she said.

“I’m honoured,” Link replied, and turned away, his eyes on the floor. Zelda sipped her tea and they sat in silence a moment. Over the scent of her perfume, Zelda could smell something else, something that smelled like summer and fresh cut grass. She leaned in subtly and inhaled.

Summer, fresh grass, and the musk of a forest floor. It was quite glorious.

Link cleared his throat and leaned to pick up the map.

“You said the artefact was in the Snowpeak mountains?” he said.

Zelda shuffled closer, her knee almost touching his.

“Yes, it’s around here,” she said, pointing at the mountainous range on the map, where she had drawn a small “x” on the parchment. “It’s a long journey, and the mountains are cold and unforgiving.”

“I know,” Link said. “I’ve been there before. One of the Mirror Shards was hidden there.”

“Oh, yes,” Zelda said, nodding. “So, you will know what to be cautious of. You will wrap up warm?”

“Of course,” Link said. He was still staring at the map. Zelda looked to his face again. His profile was exquisite, and she found her heart fluttering as he pursed his lips to blow steam off the rim of his cup.

“Good,” she said. “It is said that the artefact is hidden at the top of the tallest mountain. Blizzards are frequent, and visibility is poor. I do not want…” Zelda hesitated. “I would rather you were here with us, where it is safe. But I do not know who else I can trust.”

“You can count on me, your Highness,” Link said. He turned to her, and his eyes widened when he saw how close she was. His brows shot up as their eyes met, but he didn’t lean away, he didn’t recoil. Zelda was so close she could count the pores on his skin. She could feel his breath on her cheek. She swallowed.

“I… I know I can trust you,” she said, “But I must ask that you swear an Oath of Promise to the Divines to do whatever it takes to retrieve this artefact for me.”

Link blinked, and leaned back a little. Zelda held her breath. To ask such a thing was almost unheard of in this day and age. It would bind Link’s very soul to the task, and he knew it. To fail would mean that his soul would be forfeit. Not his life, but his afterlife, or whatever it was that lay in between his incarnations. It was a terrible request.

But she had to be sure. She had to know that he was hers, and would do whatever she asked.

He swallowed, his throat working as his shoulders tensed. For a horrible moment, Zelda thought he would refuse. Then, he nodded, his face blank.

“I swear by my soul to be bound to do whatever is necessary to retrieve this artefact and deliver it safely to you, Princess,” he said, his voice deep and solemn.

Zelda sighed, and placed a hand on his thigh. “Thank you. You have no idea how relieved I am to hear this.”

Link stiffened, and turned away, taking a long drink from his cup. _To hell with propriety_ , Zelda thought. He was _hers,_ his oath had proven that he would do whatever it takes, for her! “I have read that the artefact is guarded by a spell, not by beasts, so you should be wary.”

“I will,” Link said. His gaze was fixed across the room. Zelda gently ran her fingers in a small circle on his leg. She could feel the muscle there, as taut as leather, as hard as iron.

“Anything you need for your trip, ask it of me, and I will provide it for you,” she said. “I only ask that you hurry back.” She slid her hand along his thigh, inching towards his hip.

Link dropped his cup, spilling hot tea over his lap and the map. He cursed and leapt up.

“I’m sorry,” he said, swiping at the tea stains on his leg. “Did I burn you?”

“No,” Zelda said, scrambling to her feet. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine,” Link said, taking a step back as she went to him. “Is the map okay?”

Zelda looked. There were wet blotches on the parchment, but the map was intact. “It is fine,” she said.

“Good,” Link said. “Princess, forgive me, but I must go. I need to gather supplies for the trip. We’ll leave as soon as we’re ready.”

“Wait,” Zelda said. Link obeyed, standing still and upright. “Do you think Lady Thoria is suited to this quest?”

“I do,” Link said, without hesitation.

“What about Navi?” Zelda asked.

“She still hasn’t returned,” Link said, and a sadness crossed his face. “I know time passes differently in the fae realm, but…” he shook his head. “It’s different with Thoria. She is strong, and clever. I would feel a lot safer with her by my side.”

“I can use a bow,” Zelda said, quietly. His voice had taken on a small warmth when speaking of the stranger, and it sent daggers through her. “We fought together once, do you remember?”

“How could I forget?” Link said, darkly, crossing his arms. “It was quite the fight against Ganondorf. You have some true skill with the bow, your Highness.”

Zelda smiled, and stepped closer again. She raised a hand and stroked Link’s arm. He didn’t move. “Perhaps we could do so again, one day,” she said. “Hunt together, perhaps. Or see off a band of bokoblins.”

“You are too valuable to be put at risk,” Link said, instantly. Zelda’s heart glowed. “It was necessary when fighting Ganon, but you need to be kept safe, your Highness.”

“I will always be safe with you,” Zelda said, softly. Link relaxed somewhat, but glanced at the door again.

“Can I be of any other service?” He asked.

 _You certainly can,_ Zelda thought. But instead, she said, “no, you have my leave to go. I wish you well on your quest.” She stood on tiptoe, and before her courage left her, she kissed him on the cheek. Link didn’t react, save to take three steps back once Zelda released his arm.

“Thank you, Princess,” he said, and he left.

Zelda stood a long while, running her finger over her lips. She paid no mind when Impa came in and cleared up the spilled tea, nor when she guided her to her dressing room and began to brush her hair. It was only when the sun began to set that Zelda realised Link had not taken the map with him.

“Impa,” she said, and her aide appeared at her shoulder.

“When they leave, I want you to tail them. Make sure they get there safely. And that _she_ doesn’t… try anything. If you believe she may hurt Link, you have my permission to end her.”

Impa nodded. “What about the journey home?”

Zelda smiled. “There is a magic sealing the door to the artefact,” she said. “You can return to me as soon as they scale the mountain. You will not need to worry about her once they get there.”


	86. 86 - Link

Together, Link and Thoria rode out from the castle, heading north, towards Zora’s Domain. Their pace was slow, Epona’s hooves crunching in the snow, her breath steaming from her muzzle. Thoria was astride a borrowed black mare, a horse Epona seemed to have bonded with in the stables. The saddles were laden with supplies for the trip, food and firewood and weapons.

“It’ll be slow going,” Link said, his voice muffled by his scarf. “The horses can’t really run in this snow.”

“I wouldn’t want them to,” Thoria replied. Her own face was bare, but her hood was up, her cloak wrapped tightly around her body. “We’d be stuck if one of the poor things slipped and broke a leg.”

“We’ll avoid that,” he said. He grinned at her, her nose and cheeks rosy against the chill air. “It’ll take us a few days to get there, at least.”

“It’ll be nice to see Zora’s Domain,” she said, her eyes sparkling. “I’ve been to Goron City, but not there.”

Link shook his head. “I know. But it’ll be frozen over this time of year. The Zora will be underwater, hibernating.”

“Oh. That’s a shame.”

Link guided Epona closer to Thoria’s black mare, until he was knee to knee with her.

“Have you thought of a name for her?” he asked.

Thoria shrugged. “No. She’s not my horse.”

“She is for this trip. You should name her.”

“Oh, fine,” Thoria swatted at him and Epona pranced away, Link giggling. Thoria ran a gloved finger over her lip.

“Dealanaich,” she said, eventually. The horse snorted and flicked her ears.

Link raised his eyebrows. “Ancient Hylian?”

“Yep.”

“What does it mean?”

“Lightning,” she replied. “I fancied Thunder, but there’s not actually a word for it as far as I know. So Dealanaich will do for now.”

They rode on in silence a while. Hyrule fields were carpeted in white, and though the sun was bright above, the light was cold, the air frigid. Link squinted against the glare.

“You said you’ve been this way before,” Thoria said, after a time. “Is there anything I need to know?”

Link reined in Epona to walk beside her again.

“We need to be very careful,” he said. “We’ll be fine up to Zora’s Domain, but after that, when we reach the mountains, it gets dangerous. It’s cold, colder than it is now, and blizzards are common. The ground is treacherous, full of hidden holes and ice traps. Packs of white wolfos roam the mountains, and they have adapted to thrive there. We better hope we don’t meet any.”

Thoria patted the sword at her hip. “I’m sure we’ll be fine.”

“Visibility is poor at the best of times,” Link carried on. “And that’s before we even start to climb. We’ve got to traverse the ice lake, which could be feet thick, or paper thin, depending where you step. And there’s no way of knowing. There’s no landmarks, either, so we could get lost, or lose each other.”

Thoria’s cheerful smile was fading. Link continued, grimly.

“Then we’ve got to either climb over a cliff, or go through the caves. Both are dangerous. Ice keese are the least of our worries, and they’ll freeze your hands off. Literally.”

Thoria huddled in her cloak. “So… we’re meant to survive how, exactly?”

Link grinned. “I’ve managed before. I’m sure I can do it again.”

“Oh, you’re sure, are you?”

“Yep.” Link said, with more confidence than he felt. What he didn’t mention was that he had been a wolf for most of his last journey to the Snowpeak Mountains, his senses guiding him through the blinding blizzards, his four feet able to send him over the thick snowdrifts better than any person. He fingered the pendant at his neck. Thoria didn’t know about that part of his history. She didn’t know the Twilight had cursed him so.

Though Midna’s pendant gave him the power, he still feared it. Not for the first time, he felt the urge to tear it from his neck and fling it into the snow. It was a reminder of the curse. No matter how useful it could be, he was determined to complete his task without resorting to twilit magic. No matter how much he still missed the Twilight Princess, his curse was a cold and bitter reminder of his hardships.

“What about the horses?” Thoria asked, bringing him back to earth. She patted Dealanaich, and twisted in the saddle, staring at the land they were leaving behind. “They won’t be able to climb cliffs, or walk over ice.”

“There’s a little fishing village just outside Zora’s Domain,” he said. “It used to just be a hut and a fishing hole, but it’s grown over the years.” He shrugged. “It’s a bit too busy for me now, but back then… I could spend _days_ there. It was so peaceful.” He did not mention the real reason why he had not been back for years.

“Maybe we could stop there, on the way back,” Thoria said, smiling at him. “I’ve never been much good at fishing, but hey, if you enjoy it… who’s to say we can’t take an extra few days to relax?”

Link shook his head.

“I’d love to,” he said. “Really. But I’m honour bound by my duty as Chosen Knight to do as Zelda commands.” His thoughts turned dark as he remembered his oath to Zelda. He hadn’t had a choice, and now he was bound to return the artefact to her, no matter what. He couldn’t risk losing it on a stolen holiday.

Thoria gave him a deeply seductive look. “You don’t always,” she murmured. Link shook himself and grinned at her.

“She never technically told me _not_ to be with you,” he said. “Not explicitly, anyway. I definitely never heard the words 'don't sleep with Thoria.'”

Thoria chuckled. “I highly doubt she banned you from fishing, either,” she said. She stuck her nose in the air and imitated the princess’s voice. “Oh, good Ser, you are not to go fishing, it is a slovenly passtime one should not indulge in!” she winked at him.

Link laughed. “Oh, alright. _One_ day. Maybe. If we can get the artefact in good time. But I’m serious. She’s set me a task, and I have to do it.”

“I’m not stopping you.” She glanced over her shoulder again and made a face.

Link chuckled and nudged Epona’s sides, encouraging her into a brisk walk. He didn’t expect Thoria to understand. Even without his oath, no matter what, on his honour, he must obey the princess. Especially now, when he was flagrantly going against her wishes with Thoria. He would do her no further dishonour. And, when they returned, triumphant, with the artefact in hand, Zelda would have to admit that perhaps she was wrong, that the prophecy was not about Thoria. Maybe then she could accept her. And with that, he could finally find a way to be honest about his relationship with the strange and beautiful woman who had fallen into his life.

The evening rolled in as they stopped to make camp in the shelter of a rocky shelf. It rose ten feet into the air, leaning at a slant, with a patch of bare ground underneath. It was near a stream, and Link broke the ice with the hilt of his sword, allowing the horses to drink and filling their waterskins. Thoria busied herself, driving poles into the frozen earth and stretching the horsehide tarp along them, creating a windbreak. She piled rocks in a ring and had started a fire by the time Link made his way back.

Link fed the horses as Thoria set a pot over the fire, throwing in handfuls of meat and vegetables. Before long, a succulent stew was ready. Link spread their bedrolls next to the fire and they settled down to eat. The stew was exquisite, and Link marvelled at how Thoria had managed to make something so good with so few ingredients.

They cleaned their bowls with snow, and Link brought the horses closer to the fire, covering them with blankets. He wriggled onto his bedroll and gazed at Thoria, who was combing her hair through with her fingers. She noticed him watching.

“What?” she said.

“It’s warmer over here,” he said, raising the edge of his blanket. The cold air rushed in, but he smiled. He would be much warmer soon.

Thoria didn’t move.

“You know we’re being followed, right?” she said. Link blinked.

“What?”

“Don’t look now,” she said. “Later. When the fire dies down a bit. I saw someone, a few times on the way. Dressed in white, keeping their distance. I wasn’t sure at first.”

Link lay down, and snuck a look about the dark landscape. He could see nothing.

“Trust me,” Thoria said, settling down herself, pulling her blankets over her. She huddled. “If I had to guess, our lovely Zelda has sent someone to tail us.”

“But who…” Link sighed. “Impa.”

“Probably.”

“Why?”

Thoria shrugged. “To make sure we get there in one piece?”

Link grimaced. “No. It’ll be to watch you. To make sure you don’t try to kill me, or run off with the artefact.”

“I told you she didn’t trust me,” Thoria said. “Either way. We can’t risk her seeing us together.”

The firelight reflected in her eyes as she gazed at him, only feet away, but much, much too far.

“You sure?” Link asked again. He was hungry for her. He wanted her next to him, warming his skin with her own.

“I’m sure,” she said, and sighed. She curled up under her own blankets. “Goodnight.”

“Night,” Link responded, his abdomen aching. He curled up himself and glared into the dark. It wasn’t bloody fair.

XXXXXXX

They rose with the cold dawn, and Link rekindled the embers of their fire as Thoria saw to the horses. Shivering, he stoked sullenly at the coals, teasing out the flames to lick along the wood, bringing enough heat to warm the pot of oats he slung over them.

They ate quickly, and he stifled a yawn. He had slept poorly, the ground cold and hard under him, his mind too full of Thoria to rest completely. She mimicked his yawn, and he gave her a sympathetic smile. More than once, he had looked to her in the dark, to find her eyes roving over his face, her expression akin to a starving woman standing before a mighty banquet that she could not reach.

Without the need for words, they packed up their camp and saddled the horses. As Link fiddled with Epona’s straps, Thoria sidled next to him and stole a swift and deep kiss.

“That’ll have to do until Impa leaves us alone,” she murmured. She climbed into Dealanaich’s saddle, leaving him hard and breathless in the cold light of morning.

As they journeyed on, Link made sure to check over his shoulder at random intervals. For the first three hours, he saw nothing. But as the sun climbed higher in the sky, he saw it. A white shape, a speck against the landscape, far away, ducking down against a snowdrift. He set his jaw and turned his gaze back to the front. Was it Impa? The back of his hand gave a small tingle, and he glowered. It was.

They barely stopped to rest, and sun was beginning to set as the land began to form hills and slopes. They were another two hours from the little fishing village. Link cast his gaze about their surroundings. It would be too dangerous to continue in the dark. One misplaced step, and Epona could break her leg, and that would be the end of his faithful steed.

They made camp in the shelter of an old tree, and Link settled down after supper, huddling miserably in his blankets. He wasn’t sure he could endure another night of this. Being so close to Thoria, yet unable to touch her. After denying himself for so long, he was now used to her presence, revelling in the delights she showed him. He knew Impa would be watching. But surely the Sheikah had to sleep sometime? Would it be worth just stealing a kiss, an embrace, or more? 

But Thoria rolled herself into her blankets and met his gaze. She gave a small shake of her head, her eyes downcast.

Before midday the next morning, they arrived at the fishing village. It was barely even that, with only five low, wooden buildings shackled to the sheer rock, hanging half over the banks of the river.

They approached the largest of them, nestled back against one of the cliffs. The sign hanging outside proclaimed it an inn, showing the image of a speared fish. Link lead the horses around to the side, where a ramshackle stable had been constructed. He tossed a handful of rupees to the stable boy and made his way into the inn as Thoria remained, patting Delanaich’s nose and murmuring soft words to her.

Inside was quiet and almost empty, save for a woman standing behind the counter. A woman with bushy, brown hair tied up in a huge poof at the back of her head, leaning on the bar and reading a book.

“Welcome to The Caught Cod, where we have beds and food and fishing. I hope your stay will be a pleasant one,” she said, her tone bored. She turned a page of her book. “If you’re here to rent a boat or a room, or just want some dinner, come here. If you’re here to fish, go out and take a left to the Fishing Hole and speak to Hena. If you’re not here for any of those things, don’t let the door hit your butt on the way out.”

She finally looked up, her eyes half-lidded, her lower lip stuck out. Her eyes widened as she saw Link in the doorway.

“Hi, Iza,” he said, coming forward. Iza marked her page and slid the book under the counter.

“Well,” she said, looking him up and down. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

Link gave a rueful shrug. “It’s been a while.”

“Five years,” Iza said, folding her arms. “Hena’s still pissed.”

Link dropped his gaze. “Still?”

“Oh, yes,” Iza leaned forward on the counter, propping her elbows and resting her chin on her interlaced fingers. “Very.”

Link twisted his mouth. Hena had shared his passion for fishing. And when it was just the two of them, alone in the boat, over and over again, enjoying the silence or talking about nothing… Link sighed. Their courtship had been brief and passionate, but the princess never let him leave for long. Each time he returned to the castle, it became harder and harder to come back until one day, he didn’t. And he had never spoken to Hena about it, never told her why. He was a bloody idiot.

“I hope this means I’m not barred,” he said, injecting a little levity into his tone. “I’m on my way to Snowpeak. Is there any chance I can get a room for the night?”

“What happened between you and Hena is between you two,” Iza shrugged. “I’m not about to let it impact my business. Room’s twenty rupees a night. How long for?”

“Just the one night,” Link dug in his wallet and handed over a red rupee. As he did so, the door opened and Thoria came in, brushing snow from her shoulders.

“Ah, there you are,” she said, gliding over. She smiled at Iza. “Any chance of some hot grub? I can’t feel my feet.”

Iza raised her eyebrows at Link, who gave a noncommittal shrug and dug in his wallet for another rupee.

“Two rooms,” he said. Thoria gave him a pointed look, but he shook his head. “Impa.”

“Fine,” she said, rolling her eyes.

“Food’s included with the rooms,” Iza said, looking curiously at Thoria as she gazed around the taproom, taking in the scrubbed wooden tables and large, stone fireplace. “I’ll get’chu something. Have a seat.”

Thoria made for the table closest to the fire, dropping her pack and unfastening her cloak, hanging it next to the fire. Link imitated her, and they settled down, stretching their damp boots towards the flames. Link groaned and twisted in his seat, working some of the stiffness out of his back.

“You know her?” Thoria asked, nodding to Iza as she disappeared into a back room.

“Long time,” Link replied. “And her brother. And… sister.”

“Deliberate hesitation,” Thoria observed. “How long were you with her for?”

Link ducked his head and became very interested in his hands. Thoria waited patiently, until he sighed.

“About six months,” he said. “On and off. There wasn’t a lot to it. And it was ages ago.”

“Doesn’t bother me,” she said, with a shrug. “So long as you don’t go back while I’m around.”

Link gave a wry smile. “You don’t even have to say it.”

“I know.” She returned his grin. “Shame about the two rooms. I can’t imagine Impa would stay here while we are.”

“Not worth the risk,” Link replied. He gave a deep sigh. “As much as I agree with you.”

Iza returned with two plates of clay-baked salmon and mugs of hot, spiced wine. As they attacked the food, she retrieved her book and returned to their table, making small talk, asking after Link’s adventures and asking gentle, yet probing questions to Thoria. She answered as cheerfully as she always did, though Link couldn’t help but notice her gaze was pointed, roving over Iza’s every feature. Iza was a beautiful woman, but Hena had always been the more attractive of the pair. Link wondered if Thoria was comparing herself to the yet unknown Hena, and hoped she was not. Even the goddesses could be thought ugly next to Thoria.

Iza left them as a group of people entered the inn, serving them quickly and a little bossily. Link rose from the table, Thoria following. They ascended the rickety wooden stairs, seeking their rooms. They were at the end of a narrow hall, facing each other. Link glanced at Thoria.

“Could we just…?”

Thoria shook her head. “Did you not see? Impa came in with those other guests. She’s dressed up as a man, and quite convincingly so, but there's only one person I know in Hyrule who’s got red eyes.”

Link swore, violently and loudly. Thoria nodded.

“My thoughts exactly.” She turned the handle of her door. “I’m bushed. I’m going to do some stretches and have a rest. Meet you for dinner?”

“Okay,” Link said, watching her slip behind the door. He entered his own room, finding it to be small, cluttered, and cosy. The small bed was piled high with animal skins and blankets, the wardrobe and mirror made of driftwood. There was also a tiny bathroom.

Link dumped his pack and unbelted his weapons, kicking off his boots. He cast a dark look to the floor. Impa was down there, in disguise, to keep an eye on them. He knew if he went into Thoria’s room, or if she came to him, no matter how quiet they were, she would know.

He tugged off his tunic, sucking in his breath at the bite in the air. He flopped down on the bed, noting the slightly musty smell of the animal skins, and the cobweb in the corner of the ceiling. He curled up, exhaustion washing over him. An hour's sleep would be all he needed, for now.


	87. 87 - Link

An hour’s nap later, Link wandered out into the corridor, shivering a little. He put his ear to Thoria’s door and determined that she was sleeping. He fidgeted. There were a few hours yet before it would be time to eat, and usually, he would while away the time fishing when he was here. But, if Hena was still angry with him for leaving her without a word, or even a goodbye, he should avoid the confrontation. That last thing he wanted was a fight. It may be the thing he was best known for, but he hated it. And, as much as he wished the common man did not worship him so, he really didn't want them thinking badly of him, either.

His mouth twisted. It was his own fault. He'd been the one to shy away from explaining to Hena what was happening, that it wouldn't be possible for them whilst he was Zelda's Chosen Knight, constantly sent from one end of the kingdom to the next, or forced to stand behind her chair as she worked, bored witless. Hena was clever, she had known something was wrong. But she had clung all the tighter to him, making it harder and harder to tell her why he couldn't keep coming back. In the end, feeling trapped, he took the coward's way out, resolving to never return and ignored her letters. For that, he deserved whatever scorn she still had for him.

It was a shame. The Fishing Hole always seemed to be clement, no matter the weather. It was almost like it was its own contained world. Over the years, it had been one of his few joys in life. Whether he was with Hena or alone, the Fishing Hole afforded him a sense of peace he so rarely found, a tranquil spot in which to let time slip by and pretend that he wasn’t a Hero, burdened with the responsibility of the kingdom’s safety. Just an ordinary man, with an ordinary life, with ordinary troubles, enjoying an ordinary hobby. How he managed to somehow ruin every good thing he had ever had in his life...

He cast a glance to Thoria's door. Not this time. He had been young and stupid before. Now was different. He knew how to keep her secret and safe.

Shrugging off his thoughts, he wandered back down to the main room, now busier. A few lone travellers sat huddled by the fire, talking in low voices. A portly man with a great, white beard sat in the corner, smoking a pipe. A woman encouraged her two young children to finish their food as they picked at it, whining for dessert. Link let his eyes pass over them all, wondering if the man in the corner was Impa, as Thoria had suggested.

He moved to the bar and ordered an ale, leaning on the counter and ignoring Iza as she ignored him, unwilling to engage anyone in conversation. He knew he was drawing looks from the other patrons. The two children in particular was obvious in their interest.

“Mama, look! Isn’t that the Hero man?”

“Shh, sweetie, don’t stare.”

“But it is, Mama! Look at his hat!”

“Don’t you have a picture of him in the privy, Mama?”

“Shush!”

Link snorted and buried his face in his tankard. The _privy_ , of all places! He was uncertain whether he should feel honoured or deeply, deeply disturbed.

He tried to relax. Even with the stares, and his worry that Hena would suddenly burst through the door and shout at him, he needed to enjoy this. The simple pleasure of drinking an ale in a warm inn, with good food, surrounded by normal people, was one he rarely got to indulge in, especially so far from the castle. The next day would see him and Thoria fighting their way through treacherous land, beset on all sides by danger, and he didn’t know how long they would be stuck there.

He stirred himself.

“Iza?” he looked to her. She sighed and came over, tucking the feather she was using as a bookmark between the pages. “Do you sell supplies at all? We’ve got enough, I think, but it never hurts to have more.”

“We’ve got a few bits,” she said, with a shrug. “But Hena deals with all that. You’d have to ask her.” Her look was pointed.

Link made a face.

“Ah… perhaps not,” he said. “I’m sure we’ll be fine.”

As the sun began to lower, Thoria made an appearance. Together, they found a table far enough away from the others to remain undisturbed, but a little too far from the warmth of the fire for Link’s liking. They sat side by side, their backs to the wall, looking out over the room. The man they suspected was Impa in disguise would occasionally rouse himself to move to the bar for more ale, but he never looked their way. Each time she moved, Link tensed. He wanted to confront her, to demand to know why she was tailing them. But it would be foolish. If Impa knew she was discovered, she would simply drop her ruse and travel with them, and they would have to be more careful than ever.

As they were clearing the last of the food from their plates, the door opened, and Hena walked in. She was as beautiful as ever, even dressed in her patched dungarees and enormous, hip high galoshes. Her hair was long and thick and wavy, her big, brown eyes deep and soulful. Link deliberately turned to look at the fire, keeping her in his peripheral vision. Thoria noticed.

“Hm,” she said. “Well. I suppose I did know you have excellent taste in women.”

“Shut up,” Link muttered. “It was years ago.”

Thoria gave him a cheeky smile. “Just an observation. She’s got a great arse.”

“Not as good as yours.” Link elbowed her under the table.

“Speak for yourself. You’ve got a better butt than me.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Well. Louder, that’s for sure.”

Link poked her in the ribs and she squeaked and twisted, grabbing for his hands. “That’s rich, coming from you! I thought Death Mountain had erupted last time.”

Thoria sniggered and mimed a gentle punch at his shoulder. Link chanced a look across the bar, concerned that Impa would notice and become suspicious. But the Sheikah was nowhere in sight. Hena, however, had seen him. Their eyes met, and she looked him up and down, her gaze moving smoothly over him to land on Thoria. Her lip twitched towards a curl, and she stalked behind the bar, slamming the door.

Link sighed. At least she didn’t shout at him.

They made their way back to their rooms, and at their doors, Link threw a quick look along the corridor and pulled Thoria close. Her lips were soft and sweet, and he wanted nothing more than to barrel her into her room and slam the door closed behind them. But the lazy sounds of conversation wafted up the stairs and along the dim hallway. He stepped away. She gave him her half-smile and vanished behind her door.

He retreated to his own room, the air cold. He shivered and undressed quickly, huddling under the blankets and skins. He rolled onto his side, his mind full of the journey to come.

It would be hard, there was no denying that. They would both be cold and tired long before they reached their goal. The biggest dangers weren’t even those he had listed. Exhaustion and hypothermia would sneak up on them and catch them unawares. With minds befuddled by tiredness and cold, mistakes would come easily. He would have to be doubly aware. He had done this before, but Thoria had not. She would be more susceptible to danger, more likely to stumble into a hidden crevasse, or fall prey to a stalking wolfos.

He shivered. The room was dark, almost pitch black. Without Thoria to chase away the darkness in his mind, he felt it creeping in, thin tendrils of dread that wound through the recesses of his head, inching forward, waiting for him to fall asleep. He grimaced, and thought of her, with her easy smile and bright, almost musical laugh. If only she would come to him. He could be quiet this time, he was sure of it.

But she didn’t come. Link sighed and rolled onto his back, his hands on his stomach. He hoped their quest would be over soon. At least, in the castle, there were places to hide. And if Impa reported that she had seen nothing suspicious between them, then maybe they would be safe a little longer.


	88. 88 - Link

The next morning found them standing at the pass to the mountains. It was narrow and dark, and a chill wind whipped through, stirring their cloaks about their ankles. Link took a moment to adjust his weapons belt, and Thoria fiddled with her pack.

“Ready?” he asked. Thoria gave him her half-smile.

“I guess. Let’s go.”

The temperature dropped almost instantly as they entered the pass, the narrowness of it forcing them to walk single file. Dusty snow blew through, caught on the wind. On the other side, they stopped. Snow was falling, whipped into spiralling patterns by the blustering winds. They stood on a small outcropping of rock, covered with snow, and the land below them was a mix of white and grey. The sky was hazy and dark, smudged with falling white. Link fought off a shiver as the icy wind bit at his cheeks.

“This way,” he said, leading Thoria to the edge. They climbed down, carefully, Link clearing as much snow as he could off the rock for Thoria to place her feet and hands. At the bottom, he took a moment to look. There were no landmarks, and he pulled his pocket compass from his pouch. He pointed, and wordlessly, they set out.

The snow was knee deep, and soon, Link found himself tiring, hauling his legs up and out of the snow, only to sink back down with each step. Thoria was forcing her way through the drifts, pushing forward without lifting her feet. The snow was compact, and it was like wading through a quagmire. Link reached for her as the wind gusted, blowing snow into his eyes, and took her hand.

“We can’t afford to lose each other,” he said. “If we get too far apart, we’ll never find each other in this.”

Thoria nodded wordlessly, her jaw set, her mouth a grim line. She tugged her scarf over her face and yanked her hood down as the wind threatened to blow it off her head. Her hand was strong in his own.

After an hour of slogging through the drifts, the snow level lowered, sloping down. They stood at the banks of the ice lake, and Link cursed. The ice was not the thick sheet he had hoped for, but was splintered, with large chunks of ice freely floating.

“We need to cross,” he said. “We’ll have to jump. Aim for the centre. If you hit the edge, it’ll tilt, and you’ll go in the water. It’s so cold your body will seize up and you’ll drown.”

“Cold shock response,” Thoria said. “You’ll start gasping involuntarily. That’s how you drown.”

“Either way, we need to _not_ go in the water.”

“Oh?” Thoria forced a laugh. “There was me thinking I rather fancied a swim.”

Link didn’t smile. “Focus, Thoria.”

Thoria nodded again, eyeing the icebergs. She dropped his hand and sprang to the nearest one, landing neatly in the middle. It bobbed and listed, then settled. She turned and gave him a thumbs up. Link followed, jumping to the iceberg next to hers.

“Keep it slow,” he said. “Don’t go too far. Try to stay next to me.”

Carefully, they hopped between the icebergs, taking the time to judge their jumps and steady themselves before moving on. After a while, Link began to relax. The air was bitingly cold, and he couldn’t see very far, but it wasn’t so bad. His feet were sure, and Thoria seemed to have gotten the hang of traversing the ice quickly. He eyed her as she hopped onto another floating chunk of ice, pushing away the fleeting concern that she would grow overconfident and show off. But so far, so good.

They were halfway across the lake when Link paused, listening. Over the howling of the wind, he could have sword he heard something else. Thoria jumped onto another iceberg and looked back for him. She went still, her head tilting to the side. Link raised a hand, straining his ears.

He heard it again. A soft, almost melodious sound, low on the air. Almost too low to hear.

Thoria yelped, and he turned in time to see a great, white wolfos leaping through the air, jaws agape. Thoria threw herself to the ice, the wolfos missing her by inches. It sailed over her head and landed, skidding on the ice, turning around for another go. Link unhooked his bow and shot it, the arrow lodging in the wolfos’s shoulder. The beast howled and stumbled, sliding into the icy water. As it fell in, it yelped, a high-pitched, squealing sound. It scrabbled against the ice, and then sank from sight.

Link put his bow away and leapt to the iceberg next to Thoria.

“Are you alright?” he said. She nodded. Link cast a wary look over his shoulder and tensed, his hand going to his sword. Through the swirling snow, he could see the eyes of the pack. Thoria followed his gaze and swore.

“Where there’s one…” she growled. Her hand rested on the hilt of her sword. “What do we do?”

The first of the wolfos came forward, its lip pulled back in a snarl. As it crept on, the rest of the pack boldened and began to advance.

“There’s too many,” Link said. “We could kill them all, but with each one, we risk being bitten, or pushed into the water, or upsetting our footing.”

“Do we run?” Thoria asked. She sounded sceptical. “Never run from a predator.”

Link watched the beasts before him. They were beginning to fan out, trying to circle them. He knew he could take them. He knew he could catch each creature on the end or edge of his sword, his feet planted and sure. But there were two of them, two targets for the wolfos. He could not risk Thoria’s life. But she was right. Running would only serve to invigorate the beasts, encouraging them to chase. And running over floating ice would be their doom.

The pack was closing in. He had to choose. He began to slide his sword out of its sheath, when water erupted up before him.

A giant, pale tentacle shot into the air and came crashing down. The wolfos scattered, but one wasn’t fast enough. The tentacle scooped, knocking it into the water, where it howled and thrashed, gasping, until the tentacle came down again and dragged it below the water.

 _This is new_ , Link thought. He took a step back as the wolfos began to regroup, and the water began to move, his iceberg rising on a wave. Horrified, he watched as the water seemed to pulse.

“Run,” he said.

Thoria didn’t need telling twice. As he turned and began to sprint, he saw her already an iceberg ahead, bounding between the floating chunks with all the grace of a deer. Link followed, close behind, hearing the snapping growls and yelps of the wolfos, and the cracking, splashing slaps of the tentacle of the unknown monster lurking below them.

Thoria stumbled, going to one knee. Link gasped and tried to change his trajectory, trying to get to her. But his boots skidded on the ice and he went down. Thoria rose to her feet and leapt on, but his iceberg was tilting, lowering, the freezing water lapping at his fingers as he began to slide down.

With a curse, he pushed, swinging his legs around until he could sit, scrabbling back. He twisted as the ice came vertical, snatching the cold edge and swinging up, his boots skimming the surface of the water. Below was nothing but blackness and death. Bubbles rose, and he waited, crouched on the thin lip of ice. Far below, in the depths, something was moving.

Link waited until he heard the advancing wolfos come closer. He waited until he heard the snatch in breath that meant one of them had jumped. He jumped himself, straight up, the momentum pushing the ice down. He saw the white beast sail underneath him as the iceberg flipped. He landed on its curved underside and leapt again, landing on his hands and knees on another.

He didn’t wait. Thoria was up ahead, four wolfos hot on her heels, snapping at her legs. He threw himself forward, using his hands as much as his feet to propel himself on. His breath came in pants as he flew forward on all fours, his a growl bursting through his bared teeth, bounding between the ice. He came to a larger chunk and was able to right himself. He ducked as another beast leapt for him, and sprinted on, hardly caring that the ground was shifting under his feet, that a wave behind him was pushing the ice at an angle.

Ahead, Thoria gave a mighty leap and landed, rolling over her shoulder. She scrambled to her feet as the wolfos jumped for her, unsheathing her sword in a damning slice that sent one of the creatures flying away, spraying hot, red blood over the snow. She punched another in the snout as it attacked, and leapt out of the way as the third and fourth came on.

Link was seconds behind her. He skidded to a halt on the last iceberg, seeing the gap between him and the surface was too far to jump, at least twenty feet. He hunkered down as the ice he was on began to rise and tilt, bourne by the wave created from the monster. Whatever was below him had clearly grown tired of the chase. The wave built, pushing him on. He readied himself, and leapt to the shore as the monster burst up from below, the wave breaking across the snow, covering the drifts in a sheet of water that almost instantly turned into a shell of ice.

Link rolled to his feet and unhooked his sword and shield, battering away the wolfos that pursued him. He sliced and stabbed, felling two of the beasts, kicking another back towards the water, where the great, pale tentacle rose and slapped at the shore.

The pack had almost halved, and with a howl from the largest of them, the wolfos turned and began to flee, vanishing into the swirling white as surely as if they had never been there.

Panting, Link ran to Thoria, who was bent over, her hands on her knees. Her cloak was a little torn, but she seemed otherwise unharmed.

“Are you okay?” he gasped, skidding to a stop in the snow beside her. She nodded, and drew a hand across her brow.

“My face feels funny.”

Link sheathed his weapons and took her face in his hands, brushing his fingers over her skin.

“You’re sweating,” he said. “It’s freezing. Use your cloak, get it off your face.” He took his own advice, mopping his brow. He had only made the mistake of letting it freeze once. Many Hylians believed that frostbite would get to their hands and feet first, but they were wrong.

Link glanced back. They were a good distance from the ice lake, which had stopped roiling. The water looked as calm as it ever had, innocently hiding the strange monster below the surface. He took a breath, and wrapped Thoria in a tight embrace. Her face at his shoulder, her fingers dug into his back. But when he looked at her, her eyelashes coated with ice, her smile was fierce.

“If that’s the worst we’ve got to deal with, this is going to be easy,” she said. Link smiled down at her, and resisted the urge to kiss her. He said nothing, but he knew that this was only the beginning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little doodle for y'all; thanks to Dennah for the idea!
> 
> https://twitter.com/AderynTheHylian/status/1298558516207276032?cxt=HHwWgMC-6eSFtIUkAAAA


	89. 89 - Link

They trudged on through the snow, the drifts sometimes kind and reaching only their calves, but sometimes sinking up to their thighs. The wind was unforgiving, snapping at their cloaks, biting at their skin. Link held tight to his compass, glancing at it every few feet. His other hand held Thoria’s, their fingers laced together. Two hours of near-silent traipsing saw a huge cliff rear before them. Thoria craned her neck, blinking as snow landed on her face.

“Is this the one we have to climb?” she asked.

“No,” Link said. “There’s a pass somewhere along here. A tunnel that cuts right through. The other cliff is another few hours away yet, and we don’t _have_ to climb that one, there’s caves we can go through. We won’t need to climb for a good while yet.”

He glanced along the cliff face. As a wolf, he could follow his nose to the tunnel, finding it with ease. As a Hylian, his senses were limited, his vision restricted to a few metres. Thoria, as always, seemed able to read his mind.

“So, which way is it?” she asked. Link shivered, tucking his hands under his arms and huddling in his cloak.

“I’m not sure,” he admitted. “It won’t be far from here.”

“Let’s gamble, then,” Thoria said. “Let’s go right. If we’ve not found it after ten minutes, we’ll come back and go the other way.”

“That’s a good way to get exhausted and disoriented,” Link said.

“So, you’d rather stay put?”

Link glowered. “Fine. Five minutes.”

Thoria shrugged, and began to lead the way, hugging the cliff face. The snowdrifts were smaller here, and it was easier to walk. After a few minutes, Thoria laughed, up ahead.

“Is this it?” she asked, pointing. Link hurried to her side, and grinned.

“That’s it,” he said. He ushered her before him into the gap, the howling of the wind dying off almost instantly. The tunnel was narrow, but the ceiling was high. Link cursed and stamped his feet, shaking the snow from his cloak. Thoria copied him, lowering her hood and scooping out snow from around her collar.

“Let’s rest a while,” he said, moving a few metres in. “Have a bite, try to warm up a bit.”

“Good idea,” Thoria said. “I think if I got any colder, my tits would fall off.”

“Perish the thought!” Link said. He bunched his cloak and sat down, Thoria sliding along the rock next to him. He pulled out a few pieces of dried meat and took a drink from his waterskin. He grimaced. It had half-frozen, and the water was icy cold. He couldn’t take too much without losing body heat. Thoria massaged her calves and sighed, leaning on him.

“Is it always this bad?” she asked, waving a hand at the mouth of the tunnel. “Always storming?”

“Pretty much,” Link said. He turned and kissed the side of her head. “Part of me didn’t want you to come, because it’s so bad.”

“You think I can’t handle it?” Thoria gave him a look.

“No, I didn’t want to risk you getting hurt,” he said. “But all you’ve done is prove you can take care of yourself.”

Thoria chuckled. “I wouldn’t have let you go alone. I’d be worried you wouldn’t come back.”

“I always come back,” he said, kissing her again. She laughed.

“Okay, you do, but who knows when? If I lost you, I might have to live for hundreds of years before you came back.” She turned to him and kissed him properly, her nose brushing his. She laid her forehead on his and sighed. “Don’t you dare die. Because I mean it. I’d live forever to see you again.”

“I’m not planning on it,” Link said. “You’re not allowed to die, either.”

“Pfft. If Death comes anywhere near me, I’ll rip his balls off.”

Link laughed. They sat a while, resting, chewing the dried meat, until they started to shiver.

“We need to keep moving,” Link said, heaving himself to his feet. Ahead of them, the tunnel curved around, and they advanced, climbing onto a platform and moving on. But they had barely gone four steps before Link threw out his arm.

“Stay still,” he said, his voice low. “And don’t make any noise.”

Thoria stared at him, alarm on her face. She followed his gaze as Link lifted his eyes to the ceiling.

Above, several long, thick, and very sharp icicles hung. They seemed to quiver. They stretched all along the roof of the tunnel, following the curve.

“Not a sound,” he breathed. He crept forward, testing the ground under his foot with every step. Thoria copied him, clutching his hand in an iron grip. Link kept his eyes on the ground, watching for any crevasse, and loose stone, anything that could cause the icicles above them to fall.

They crawled on, inching along at an agonisingly slow pace. As the end of the tunnel came into view, he allowed some of the tension in his shoulders to ease. The tunnel began to slope upwards, and the ground became slick and icy.

“Not much further,” he said. “Just a bit mor- SHIT!”

His boots slipped on the ice, and he lost his footing. He fell to the ground with a thump that echoed through the tunnel. Thoria yelped and reached for him, as the icicles above began to tinkle, shivering together. Link lay perfectly still, staring up at the ceiling as the echo of his landing reverberated through the tunnel. Thoria, above him, seemed frozen in place, half-bent as she reached to hand him up.

At the other end of the tunnel, an icicle fell, shattering on the cold, stone floor.

“GO!” Link yelled, as the others began to fall in a great wave, each crash loosening more from above. Thoria did not run, but grabbed his tunic, hauling him up as his boots skidded on the ice. They scrambled up the slope, the shattering crashes coming ever closer, ever louder, ever faster. As the ground levelled out, Thoria straightened up, holding his wrist as she sprinted for the exit, Link keeping pace. He felt the ice explode behind him, felt the shards against the back of his legs, and he leapt, barrelling into Thoria and flinging them both out into the howling snow.

They landed heavily in a tangle of limbs as ice blasted out of the tunnel mouth. Panting, Link propped himself up on his elbows, Thoria beneath him.

“That was close,” she said. Wordlessly, he nodded, his heart racing. It was the second time they had come close to death in the same day. He stared down at her, at a loss for words. They were alive! He bent his head and kissed her, allowing his body to sink down to hers, ignoring the snow that blew around them, ignoring the icy wind.

Thoria rose to meet him, her arms around his neck. But she broke the kiss too soon, leaving him panting.

“Not out here,” she said. “Too cold.”

Link groaned a wordless complaint, but she was right. He rose, pulling her up, and checked his compass.

“This way,” he said, taking her hand. Despite the freezing air, it took him longer than he cared to admit to redirect his blood to his hands, and the feeling began to return to his fingers. It seemed to him that the rumbling from the tunnel was still echoing in his mind, just audible over the wailing wind.

“Do you hear that?” Thoria asked, her shoulders hunched against the onslaught of weather.

“Hm?”

“That rumbly noise. Is there a thunderstorm?”

Link shook his head. “You hear it too? I thought it was just an echo.”

Thoria grunted, her legs ploughing through the snow. “Nuh-uh. I could swear it’s getting louder.”

Link paused. She was right. It _was_ getting louder. And like a hammer, the realisation struck. He turned, his eyes widening, as he looked into the grey distance. The air seemed to be lightening, a great blanket of white roaring towards them.

For a moment, he stood, transfixed, unable to speak, unable to move. But he felt Thoria next to him, staring, as he was, and something broke through his stupor. He opened his mouth, a single, terrified word bursting from his lips.

“AVALANCHE!”


	90. 90 - Link

Link scrambled through the snow, terror lending strength to his limbs. He almost swam through the drifts, collapsing forward, his body sinking into the snow. Thoria was beside him, windmilling her arms to propel herself forward. But it was all in vain. The avalanche was coming, tearing towards them with terrifying speed.

Thoria was falling behind. Link snarled. She would be swallowed by the snow in moments. It was bearing down on them, a crashing, thunderous wave. He remembered Ashei, sitting sullen at the table in Telma’s bar, muttering about the dangers of avalanches, how they would cover you in seconds. If you were lucky, you’d be crushed. If not, you’d be trapped under tonnes of snow, and would slowly suffocate.

Link turned, reaching for Thoria. He snatched her hands and pulled her towards him.

“Get up,” he said, pulling her close. “On my shoulders. When it hits, fall back on it. Ride it.”

“What about you?” she panted. “I’m not leaving you!”

“No time!” he shouted, as the roaring wall of snow approached. It was mere feet from them. He seized her at her hips and flung her up, turning to face the oncoming, white death. He hoped he would be crushed. At least it would be quick. With a jolt, he realised, as Thoria tumbled back on top of the wave, he had to say the words. Now, before they were lost forever. He had to tell her.

He yelped as Thoria’s flailing hands snagged the hood of his cloak, and he was yanked out of the snow and up, up on top of the roaring avalanche.

The speed and force of the rolling snow began to drag them down. Thoria swore, a steady stream of curses that increased in pitch. Link fought, trying to lie on his back, his shield carving through the snow. In a flash, he knew what to do. He unhooked his shield, leaning back, struggling to right himself, until he could plant his feet on it. He hooked his boot under the hand strap and rose, knees bent.

He surfed the wave of snow, teeth bared, his cloak snapping out behind him. The speed made his eyes water against the wind. Beside him, Thoria was still struggling, buried up to her waist in snow, and sinking. Link reached for her hands and missed, almost over balanced. With a roar, Thoria brought her fists down and succeeded in launching herself half out of the torrent, but she fell forward. Link screamed her name as she tucked, freeing her legs from the snow, but rolling, in danger of sinking once again. She flipped onto her back, but she was sinking again, the snow piling in the hood of her cloak.

Link reached for her, missing her outstretched fingers by inches. He leaned, dipping his knee, leading his shield toward her. He reached again and snatched her hand, pulling her to him. The extra weight made his shield wobble, and he fought to keep his balance, fought to hold on to her.

But with agility bourne of desperation, Thoria kicked at the snow and swung out, coming close enough for him to pull him to her properly. He pulled her up, onto his back. As her knees swung to either side of him, he righted his stance, balancing on the shield, her arms around his neck.

They flew, bourne on the tidal wave of tearing snow. Behind him, Thoria laughed, high pitched and wild. And through his terror, through his panic, Link felt it too. The exhilaration, the impossibility that they were still alive, and surfing on an avalanche!

Link raised his arms and whooped, leaning forward, tempting more speed out of his shield. But they were sinking. Before long, the snow was creeping over his shield. Link turned and grabbed hold of Thoria, bending to his shield, hooking it back onto his arm.

He held her close as the raging snow snarled around their legs. He stared desperately at her as they sank to theirs hips, her eyes wild and determined. He kissed her, deep and full, until she broke it.

“Thoria,” he gasped, as the snow crept over their stomachs. “I… I-“

She took his head, pulling him close to her, his head buried in her breasts as the snow swallowed them.

It was dark, it was silent, and he could not breathe. He could feel Thoria against him, the snow threatening to tear them apart. He could feel the heat of her, and prayed to the Divines that they would save her, let her live. The darkness had a strange, green tint to it, growing brighter, and he closed his eyes, praying. She had an arm around his back, the other elsewhere, trailing through the snow as it barrelled on, roaring forth as they were pulled deeper, and deeper, and…

They were spat into an opening at great speed, and landed heavily. Thoria flew from him and Link rolled along the cold ground. He scrambled up as the snow continued to thunder against the cliff, pouring into the mouth of the cave. The light from outside dimmed, and dimmed, and disappeared.

In total blackness, Link groped for Thoria. He found her huddled against the wall, panting and shaking.

“That… was _awesome_ ,” she said, her voice trembling.

Link slid down the wall next to her and put his arms around her, and she folded into him. His own legs were shaking, though whether it was from fear or exhilaration or a mixture of both, he did not know.

“We need light,” he said. He fumbled in his pouch for his lantern, drawing it out. He clicked the start a few times, but nothing happened. He felt along the sides of it and hissed as his fingers brushed broken glass. It was useless.

“I’ve got a torch,” Thoria said, and he heard her rooting through her pack. A moment passed, and a few sparks appeared as she struck flint with her knife. The momentary glow was enough to illuminate her gloved hands, the dark shape of the torch on the cold ground, and the tip of her nose.

She struck the flint again, cursing as the wick refused to take. She swore again as she had another go.

“ _Teine!_ ” she spat, lashing the flint with her knife, and at last, the sparks took, a tongue of flame running along the wick of the torch, growing and brightening. She held it aloft, and they looked about.

The walls of the cave were pale and glacial, more ice than stone. The floor was much the same, though the ice was only pooled at the walls, leaving the middle of the rough stone bare. A few tunnels bisected the rock, leading into blackness. Link cursed. He did not know this cave.

“Well,” Thoria rose, holding the torch before her. “Which way?”

“I…” Link hesitated. “I don’t know.”

Her back to him, Thoria’s shoulders tensed. She turned her head to look at him, her body following.

“You don’t know?”

Link shook his head. “There’ll be a way out. We just have to find it.”

Thoria bit her lip. “This torch won’t last forever,” she said. “And I’ve only got a couple more.”

“We’ll be fine,” Link said. “At least we’re out of the wind. No avalanches can get us in here, can they?”

Thoria didn’t smile. “Let’s go.”

Link shook his head. “We need to rest.”

“We can rest later,” Thoria said. “I want to find a way out.”

Link sighed. “Okay. We’ll explore for an hour. Then we _have_ to rest. Deal?”

“Fine.”

Choosing a tunnel at random, they advanced into the darkness, the only light the flickering torch in Thoria’s hand. Link kept close to her, and took her hand as the darkness in his mind seemed to swell, a disembodied laugh sounding at the edges of his memory. She squeezed his hand.

“At least Impa won’t be able to follow us,” she said.

Link chuckled. “Don’t count on that. She’ll track us forever if she has to.”

Thoria tilted her head to the side, her eyes focused on the roof of the cave. Then, she nodded. “You’re right. She’ll probably pop up in here in no time.”

They followed the twisting tunnel until it split, branching off into three different directions. Link pulled out his compass and peered at it. The needle was fluctuating, spinning first one way, then the next. He swore and stuffed it back in his pouch. There must be magnetic rock in the walls.

Following a hunch, he led them down the left-hand tunnel, and immediately retreated as a flock of keese flapped to life, their white wings clouding with icy mist. Link drew his sword and slashed them from the air, Thoria jabbing at them with her torch. The battle was over in seconds.

“Not that way, then,” Thoria quipped, moving towards the centremost tunnel. Link followed.

They walked for what felt like hours, until Thoria’s torch began to dim. She looked at it apprehensively, and then at Link.

“I guess we should stop,” she said. “Get some kip.”

Link nodded. The cave they had found themselves in was small, but there was room enough for them to lie down. He pulled out a bundle of wood and built a small fire, lighting it with Thoria’s torch. He shivered, huddling close to the flames.

“It’s freezing,” Thoria said, holding her hands so close to the flames her gloves began to steam. “Even out of the wind, it’s freezing.”

Link nodded. “It’s because we’re not moving. The fire will help, but only so much. If I make it any bigger, the ice on the walls will melt and put it out.”

Thoria wrapped her cloak around herself and grimaced, before pulling it off.

“It’s wet,” she said. “I’ll be colder if I wear it. You should take yours off too.” She spread it out by the fire and Link copied her, huddling closer to the flames. He dug in his pouch for food, and they shared a quiet meal of dried meat and chilly apples. Thoria shuffled closer and leaned against him, shivering.

“We need to get warmer,” Link said.

“How?” she asked. “The fire’s all we’ve got. Skin on skin will keep us warm…” she threw him a look. “And I don’t mean like that. But it only works if we’re under a cover. Our bedrolls won’t do much, they’re not thick enough.”

Link couldn’t help but agree. When he had been here before, his thick fur coat had kept him warm. Almost unconsciously, his hand rose to the smooth stone pendant hanging at his neck. He sighed. He didn’t want to. He really, _really_ didn’t want to. But if it was a choice between life and death, and perhaps a way out of the caves…

“There’s something I’ve not told you,” he said, softly. Thoria peered at him, her shoulders by her ears, her hands tucked under her arms. She tilted her head to the side.

“When I was… well. The first time the Twilight came to Hyrule, the people became like spirits. They didn’t know what had happened. Only a few were left untouched. And I… uh…”

He drew out the stone on its cord.

“I guess it was because of my Triforce,” he said. “But I didn’t become spirit.”

Thoria raised an eyebrow, waiting. Link gave her a sheepish smile.

“I turned into a wolf.”

Thoria made a small sound, a cross between a disbelieving snort and a surprised grunt.

“Okay?”

Link held up the stone so she could see. “I was cursed,” he said. “And it was only after visiting the light spirit that I could become myself again. But each time I touched the Twilight, it changed me. I had to go into it, again and again, to clear it from Hyrule. It… hurt.” He threw off a shiver that was only partially due to the cold. “And then, when the Twilight was all but gone, Zant, the cause of it all, cursed me again.” He laughed, a bitter sound. “He nearly killed Midna. But we both survived, and she was able to harness the power, so I could use it at will. It didn’t hurt when she changed me.”

He rolled to his feet, leaving Thoria by the fire. He noticed how the temperature dropped drastically, even a foot away from the circle of light.

“When she left, she gave me this pendant,” he said. “She told me it contained her power, so I could change, if I wanted.” He grimaced. “I’ll be honest. I’ve not. It would be just like Midna to play a prank on me, for it to malfunction on purpose.”

“So, why are you telling me this now?” Thoria eyed him.

“Because it’s freezing, and we’ll both be in serious trouble if we can’t get warm.” Link ran his thumb over the stone again. “If I… changed… I’d be able to keep us both warm.”

Thoria nodded, her expression guarded. “Alright.”

Link took a breath and held the stone, his eyes closed. A minute passed, and with a jolt, he realised he didn’t actually know how it worked. He cracked an eye and stole a glance at Thoria, whose guarded expression had devolved into something like patient disbelief. She stirred, the slightest movement, and Link could almost hear her soft voice, soothing and consoling.

He set his jaw. She didn’t believe him. He would not lie to her, not when her life was at stake! He took another breath. _I just want to be a bloody wolf,_ he thought. His foot moved, stepping forward, and as he did, he felt a coolness wash over him, the coolness of Midna’s Twilit magic.

The change was without pain, and when he opened his eyes, everything was different. The colours were muted, blue and yellow prominent. He could hear his breath, her breath, and the soft, subtle creaking of the ice around them, the crackling of the fire so much louder in his ears. He inhaled, smelling a thousand different scents at once. The smoke of the fire, the ice on the walls, the rock beneath, and Thoria. Her autumn scent was magnified tenfold, and he could smell her skin, her hair, her breath, and other things. Musky and tantalising. He smiled, feeling his lips pull over his snout.

The feeling was _glorious_. He had forgotten how powerful being a beast made him feel. He felt as though he was brimming with energy, and he wanted to run, to bound over the land. He wanted to throw back his head and howl, but it would be foolish. He shook himself, his mane ruffling.

“Fuck _right_ off,” Thoria whispered, her voice awed. He turned to her. Standing, he was level with her as she sat on the stone, her eyes so wide they looked as though they were about to pop out. He took a careful step forward, testing his altered weight, his claws clicking on the rocky ground.

“I don’t fucking believe it,” Thoria said. She peered at him, her lips parted. “If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes…” she rubbed them and shook her head. “You’re a damn werewolf!”

Link huffed and shook his head. He padded closer, and Thoria raised a hand, sliding off her glove. She placed it on his head, his fur thick between her fingers. She stroked, and Link let his eyes close, enjoying it far more than he ever had when Midna or Coro had petted him.

“But where… where did all your stuff go?” she asked, her voice full of wonder.

“Beats me,” Link replied, but it came out as a woof. He settled for shrugging as well as he could. She laughed.

“Ah, wolves don’t have the same vocal cords we do. I guess communication might be a tad difficult.” She fought off another shiver.

“I agree,” Link said, but it sounded like a rumbling, friendly growl. He shook his head and nudged Thoria, moving her towards the wall. She shuffled back obediently, and Link pawed at her pack, and settled for tugging the bedroll with his teeth. It was good to be a wolf again, but would it hurt to have opposable thumbs?

Thoria helped, pulling the bedroll out and spreading it on the rock. She flapped the blanket open, drawing it round her shoulders, and lay down. Link came closer and nuzzled her face. She grinned, and kissed the tip of his nose. He smiled back, his nose tingling with all her scents, and licked her cheek.

“Blergh!” she scrunched up her nose, trying to hide a smile. “Come here.”

Link lay down next to her and she slid her arms around him. He curled up, huddling as close as he could. She buried her face in his mane, and he laid his head on his paws as she tugged the blanket over them both. He would sense a way out when they woke. But for now, he was content to lie beside Thoria, gazing into the flames, breathing her in.

There was a scent he couldn’t identify. Something that muddled along underneath everything else that was gloriously her. He frowned, trying to place it. Something about it was familiar, and yet, it was as if he had never experienced it before. He shook his head. It was probably just the part of her that was from another world. Nothing to think too deeply on. He let his eyes close as she idly scratched behind his ears, relishing her touch. They would sleep until the fire died, and then they would move on.


	91. 91 - Link

He didn’t know how long they slept, but he was roused by Thoria wriggling beside him, reaching for her pack in total blackness.

“Fire’s gone out,” she said, somewhat unnecessarily, her teeth chattering. Link sat up and shook himself, feeling little needles of frost fly from his fur. His paws and nose were chilly, but he wasn’t cold. He sniffed out Thoria’s pack and nudged it to her fumbling hands.

“Thanks.”

“Woof.”

She chuckled and struck her flint, sending bright sparks flying through the air. She cursed again as she struck the flint, “ _teine!_ ” and the torch took. Link put his head to the side. The mysterious scent rose in the air and dissipated, like a curl of smoke. Perhaps it was smoke, a lingering thread of fluff on the torch, burned into nothing.

As the flame flickered and grew, Thoria rose, rubbing her back.

“We best move on,” she said, glancing about the black cave. “Would you hold this a mo?”

Link took the torch carefully in his jaws, keeping a keen eye on the flaming end. Singed fur was not the way he wanted to start his day. Thoria rolled up the blankets and put them away, cursing and stamping her feet.

“It’s so damn cold,” she said. “Let’s move.” She hesitated. “This way, maybe?”

Link gave her back the torch and lowered his nose to the ground. It was laden with a hundred different smells, some old, some new, some as ancient as the stone itself. He snuffled about until something caught his attention.

Fresh air.

With a grunt and a small bark, he moved on, his head to the ground. Thoria followed close behind.

Their route was long and winding, but Link knew they would not go wrong now. _Why_ he had been so hesitant to use his senses in the first place seemed like such a stupid reason. He could have saved them hours of travel, and avoided the dangers they had faced. He growled and shook himself. His fear had caused him to fail again, and it had nearly cost them their lives.

Hours passed. Thoria occasionally piped up with a quip or comment, but soon quietened, seemingly remembering that Link could do little more than bark back at her. Thoria’s torch began to dim, and they sped up, going faster and faster, until they were almost running, when-

“Light!” Thoria cried. “Daylight!”

Link let out a joyful yip and bounded forward, bursting out of the cave and into bright, white sunlight.

Thoria was not far behind. She tossed her torch aside and danced in the snow, kicking up drifts and laughing. She bent and scooped a double handful of snow, compacting it, and tossed it at Link. He leapt and snapped it out of the air, the snow exploding against his teeth.

He flopped to the ground and rolled around, wriggling in the snow. Thoria joined him, ruffling the fur about his head and neck.

“Who’s a good wolfie? You are! Yes, you are!” she laughed. Link flipped back to his feet and yapped irritably. She laughed again.

“Oh, alright. I suppose that’s a bit demeaning. You going to change back?”

Link paused. He glanced about the landscape. They were at the top of one of the mountains, in the middle of the snowscape. He knew where they were. A large tree stood at the edge of a steep slope. He didn’t need to be a wolf any more. But he wanted to be. It was freeing to be a beast again, to have such strength, such speed, such majesty.

But there were certain things a wolf couldn’t do.

He sat down and bowed his head. He had only needed to will himself into wolf form to achieve it. Would it work the other way around?

But of course, it did. In moments, he was sitting in a thick bank of snow, suddenly cold and shivering. His weapons were heavy on his shoulders, and the bite of the wind was sharp, running across his cheeks and scampering down his neck.

Wordlessly, he rose and drew Thoria to him.

“I’m so glad that worked,” she said. “It’s amazing, but I don’t think I could have done with you being a wolf all the time. I’d miss certain parts of you.” She leant in and kissed him.

Link grinned as she pulled away, and barked.

Thoria took a step back. “Oh, shit. Did it not…?”

“I’m joking,” Link said, and received a face full of snow for his trouble.

“Where now?” Thoria asked, as he shook snow out of his tunic, cursing.

“Down there,” he said, pointing along the slope. “It’s a bit of a detour, but I’ve a couple of old friends that way. We can rest, get warm, and they can probably tell us a bit about where we’ve got to go.”

“Friends? Here?” Thoria looked dubious. “Who would want to live out here?”

“Yetis,” Link said, unhooking his shield.

“Yetis? Of bloody course.” Thoria shook her head. “What species haven’t you got here?”

“Dunno,” Link approached the slope and dropped his shield. “Coming?”

Thoria stared at him. “What are you doing?”

“Surfing down,” he replied. “It’s the quickest way.”

Thoria stared a moment longer, before laughing and unhooking her own shield. “I won’t say no. Lead on!”

With a whoop, Link leapt forward, pushing off the top of the slope. For a moment, he was airborne, and then he was flying down the slope, sending waves of snow shooting up beside him as he swerved and dipped. He let fly a yell as he sped up, the wind slicing through his hair, making his hat and cloak snap behind him. Behind him, he could hear Thoria whooping, and he knew she was punching the air in exhilaration.

The ride was over far too soon, as it had always been. Link skidded to a stop, his shield scraping the ground as the snow thinned and revealed stone. He hopped off and kicked it up into his hands, slinging it onto his back as he turned.

He yelped and leapt aside as a giant snowball came barrelling toward him. It came to a stop just where he had been standing. The snowball had feet.

“Uh, little help?” came Thoria’s voice.

Link hurried round to the other side and doubled over with laughter. Thoria’s head and gloves poked out the side of the snowball, and she wore a distinctly disgruntled expression.

“What happened?” Link gasped, still laughing.

“Fell off my shield,” she said, managing to shrug with her face and hands. “Would you mind? It’s a bit cold.”

A few deft strikes of his sword saw the snowball disintegrated, and Thoria stood up, brushing off her clothes. Link managed to sober up.

“You’re lucky you weren’t hurt,” he said. “I’m sorry. I should have said it was difficult.”

“I did it on purpose,” she said, airily. “I wanted to make you laugh.”

“Sure, sure.” Link took her hand. “We’re here.”

They took a moment to gaze up at the dilapidated mansion before them, all towering dark stone and half-collapsed roofs.

“Yetis live here, huh?” Thoria said.

“Yeta and Yeto,” Link said. “Come on.”

They approached the heavy, dark doors, and Link raised one of the enormous knockers and let it fall with a bang.

Heavy footsteps sounded from within, and the door was flung wide, revealing Yeto, towering above them, a saddle perched fetchingly on his head.

“UH, IT’S YOU!” he roared, bending to Link and patting him on the head, sending him to his knees. “I NOT SEEN YOU IN LONG TIME, UH! WHERE YOU BEEN?”

“Up at the castle,” Link replied, rising. “We’re headed for the highest mountain, but we need to recover somewhat. Can we stay for the night?”

“WE?” Yeto looked about and spotted Thoria. “UH! WHO IS THIS TINY PERSON?”

“Thoria,” Link explained. “She’s my… um…”

“Travelling companion?” Thoria offered.

“UH, YOU HAVE A GIRLFRIEND!” Yeto laughed. “GOOD, GOOD! COME INSIDE, TINY HYLIANS! I MAKE SOUP!”

“Soup?” Thoria echoed as they followed the yeti inside.

“It’s bloody good,” Link said. “And if he’s been making it for a decade, I can’t even imagine how good it’ll be now.”

The hallway was in an even worse state of disrepair than it had been the last time Link had visited, the hole in the ceiling letting in the cold and the snow, despite Yeto’s obvious repair efforts. Yeto led them through to one of the back rooms, and Link was pleased to find this one was still intact, and surprised to find the yetis had managed to source some more furniture.

Yeta was perched on one of the armchairs, wearing her customary sleeveless jumper. She smiled as Link and Thoria entered.

“Uh! It’s you! Not seen you in long time.”

“It’s good to see you both,” Link grinned, moving towards the hearty fire roaring in the grate. “How’ve you been?”

“I been good, uh. Much better. Not get sick again.” She winked. “I still grateful to you. You saved me and husband.”

“Don’t mention it,” Link said, shrugging off his cloak. “Really.”

He made quick introductions as Yeto lumbered off towards the kitchen. Thoria had been staring, wide eyed, at Yeta, who was watching her with the same curiosity.

“This one has some questions, uh?” she said.

“You betcha.” Thoria glanced at Link, who grinned and waved a hand. Thoria scurried over and sat neatly before Yeta, and began peppering her with questions. Who was she? Where did she come from? Are there other yetis? Why do they live here? What do they do for fun? Oh, snow surfing? I’ve only done that twice…

Link was content to sit back and listen as his clothes dried. Soon, Yeto returned with steaming bowls of soup bigger than their heads. Link had been right. It was spectacular.

“NOW, YOU TWO HAVE HAD LONG JOURNEY, UH,” Yeto said, scrubbing his mouth with the back of his hand. “YOU ARE TIRED, UH?”

“Very,” Link admitted.

“I SHOW YOU TO A SPARE ROOM, UH.” Yeto rose, and gave a roughish wink. “YOU ONLY NEED ONE ROOM, UH?”

“What about Impa?” Thoria hissed to Link. He grimaced, and brightened.

“Yeto, we think we may have been followed some of our journey,” Link said. “If anyone else arrives…?”

“I SHOW WHY TINY HYLIANS THINK YETIS SCARY, UH,” Yeto laughed. “YOU REST NOW, AND COME BACK DOWN FOR SUPPER. MORE SOUP FOR YOU, UH.”

He led them through a series of winding and chilly corridors to a spacious room containing a dusty bed and shattered cabinets. The ceiling was thankfully intact.

“THIS OUR NICEST GUEST ROOM, UH.”

“Thanks,” Thoria said, smiling. “Really. We appreciate the hospitality.”

“NOTHING TOO MUCH TROUBLE FOR LITTLE HERO,” Yeto said, patting Link on the back and sending him face first into the floor. “WE IN DEBT TO HIM FOR SAVING YETA.”

“Boy, you got around,” Thoria said, drily, as Link picked himself up. Yeto made a quick fire in the grate and left with a wave.

Thoria dumped her pack and kicked off her boots and cloak, hanging them by the fire. She turned to Link with a wicked grin.

“Come here,” she said.

Link didn’t need to be told twice.

XXXXXXX

Link and Thoria arrived back downstairs for supper with Yeto and Yeta. The yetis were not in their sitting room, but in the dining room, where a pair of tables had been placed, one of ordinary height, and one so tall that Link would have to leap to even grasp the top of it.

Link could not keep the smile from his face. Though it had only been less than a week, having to keep away from Thoria had been torture. Now, he felt as though he were complete again. He had almost forgotten just how soft her skin was, the heat of her lips, the thrill of her touch. It seemed impossible to be closer to her, but each time she was near, he felt that invisible bond strengthen.

Thoria seated herself next to Yeta as Yeto prepared and prepared them great bowls of soup and mighty loaves of bread, accompanied by huge wheels of goat cheese and vast platters of grapes, celery and other greens.

As he ladled soup, Yeto winked at Link, who was helping the yeti prepare the charcuterie board.

“UH, YOU LOOK MUCH REFRESHED, LITTLE HERO FRIEND,” he said. Link gave a wry grin and moved to the smaller table, laying the board down.

“Uh, you tell us of your adventures?” Yeta asked. She had removed her armless jumper in favour of a knitted vest top. Her hands were surprisingly dainty.

“There’s not much to tell,” Link said, blowing on his soup as Yeto sat at his giant table with a groaning of wood. “The most recent event was the arrival of Lady Thoria.”

He regaled the yetis with stories of his recent adventures, and finally got around to the reason as to why they were there.

“Uh, the top of the mountain,” Yeta tore her bread apart and mopped up the last of her soup. “It dangerous up there.”

“VERY DANGEROUS,” Yeto agreed. “NOTHING BUT BLIZZARDS AND LONG FALL DOWN. WHY YOU GO?”

“There’s an artefact the princess wants, and it’s said to be up there,” Link explained.

“YOU HAVE A HARD TIME, UH,” Yeto said, shaking his head. He took a bite of cheese and worked it around his mouth, nodding. “THERE ONLY ONE PATH, UH. HARD TO SEE.”

“Can you show us the way?” Thoria asked.

“UH, NOT SHOW YOU,” Yeto shook his head. “PATH TOO NARROW FOR YETO.”

“Yeta?” Link asked.

“No, uh, I not go up there,” she wrapped her arms around herself. “That where I found mirror. Not go back.”

“Can you tell us the way?” Link pressed.

“HARD WAY,” Yeto tapped the tabletop, making the room shake. “NOT EASY, UH. BLIZZARD MEANS YOU CAN’T SEE. PATH NARROW, UH. CAN FALL.”

“So how do we get up there?”

“GLOWY STONES. THEY LINE PATH, UH. IN DARKNESS THEY SHINE LIKE BLUE STARS.” Yeto opened and closed his hands, miming the twinkling of stars. “STAY WITH THEM. BUT YOU SHOULD NOT GO.”

“I’m sure we can handle a blizzard,” Thoria said.

“Uh, not just blizzard,” Yeta said. “It, uh, bad air. Not feel right. Something bad, uh.”

“Like a spell?” Link said. “The princess warned me that there might be a spell guarding what’s hidden.”

“I not know, uh,” Yeta shrugged. “You stay another night, uh? Rest some more. We give food for journey.”

“THEY SHOULD NOT GO, UH,” Yeto rumbled. Yeta gave him a frank look.

“Little Hero man and his girlfriend are brave,” she said. Link blushed, and Thoria chuckled. “They will be fine, husband, but we help them, uh.”

“How’d you know?” Thoria asked. Link kicked her shin under the table and she responded with a sharp toe.

“Uh, we in love,” Yeta nodded at her husband. “It easy to see others like us, uh.”

“Love, huh.” Thoria cast a meaningful look at Link, and he ducked his head. “How wonderful.”

 _Din save me,_ he thought. _I can’t say it. I want to. But I can’t. It’ll make it real. Real things can be destroyed. I don’t want us to be destroyed._ He looked back up, and found Thoria smiling. He wanted nothing more than to tell her. 

“FINE, UH. YOU STAY TONIGHT. TOMORROW YETO SHOW YOU WHERE PATH IS.”

“Sounds good,” Thoria said, her eyes still fixed on Link. “Thank you, Yeto.”

The evening was spent by the fire, enjoying some of Yeto’s home-brewed “firewater.” It certainly burned like fire, Link thought, as it seared his throat. But the taste was admittedly pleasant, and his head was soon reeling. Thoria seemed to weather the drink a little better, and he leaned on her as they meandered back to their room.

He slumped on the mattress, the air chilly. Thoria stated a fire and stumbled over, tugging off her boots. She sat next to him, and he felt burned by her stare.

“What?” he raised his head, gazing blearily up.

“You know what,” she said, her voice soft. “Remember that fight we had? You asked me, ‘is that all this is?’ It’s not. It’s much more than just sex.”

“I know that.” Link flopped back to the mattress. “It was just a spat. Nothing to it.”

“Yeta makes a good point,” she said. “They love each other. Don’t we?”

Link sat up and tugged off his boots, fiddling with the belts on his tunic. He didn’t know what to say. To say the words would make it real. It was so much easier to live a dream, where nothing was corporeal, where nothing was in danger. To say it gave it form. To say it meant it could be broken. To say it meant that they would be in danger. Zelda would know, she would find out, she… He was too afraid of what could happen.

Thoria waited, and then sighed.

“I understand. I am but a stranger in this land, one who is prophesised to bring doom to the kingdom.” She rose. “I won’t push you. And I won’t ask again. I know where I stand.”

She moved to the beaten up sofa at the far end of the room, outside the circle of firelight.

“Where are you going?” Link stumbled as he pulled his trousers off. “It’s cold over there. Come back here.”

She gave a sad smile. “I know where I stand,” she repeated. She pulled her cloak about herself and lay down, her back to him. Dumbfounded, Link stared at her, until the realisation filtered through his drink-sodden mind.

 _You idiot!_ He cursed himself. _Tell her! Tell her now! Make it right!_

But he couldn’t. He felt hollow. What was the point? He had lost her anyway.

He lay down, shivering in the cold air, the light of the fire nowhere near enough to warm his bones. The warmth he wanted was on the other side of the room, and his cowardice had driven it from him as he had feared. The shadows began to creep into his mind as he fought off sleep. He deserved it. For all his failings, he deserved worse. And Thoria deserved so much more than what he could give.


	92. 92 - Link

The morning saw them rise, chilly and distant. Thoria said nothing as they dressed, and Link did not push her to speak with him. He felt empty, as though he had lost the most precious part of him. Even her soft, half-smile and gentle touch on his shoulder did little to alleviate his misery.

He had failed her. Throughout everything, the simplest, most natural words stuck in his throat. All he had to say were three, easy things, simple vibrations in the air, and that would be it. Their relationship would be saved, and all would be well. But he just couldn’t do it.

All she had was him. All he had was her. Why did he deny himself? He could not even use his shadow as an excuse, the cursed side of himself had dimmed over the months into little more than snarling memories, trapped in a cage. It was his own cowardice, his own pathetic self that let him down. That let Thoria down. Too afraid to truly let go of the armour he had wound around himself, too afraid to truly allow himself to be vulnerable. She deserved better. Thoria was worth more than this.

Over breakfast, the mood was solemn. The yetis seemed as sombre as he felt, the journey to come looming over their heads. Link was happy to let them think this was the reason. Inside, he was at war.

 _It’s her fault,_ a vicious voice inside him said. _She’s not said it either! Clearly, she doesn’t love you like you love her._

 _That’s not fair,_ he argued back. _Thoria’s a stranger, she doesn’t know all the customs of Hyrule. She’s cautious, waiting to see if it’s right. If she was wrong, she’d be alone!_

 _Don’t be stupid,_ the nasty voice countered. _She’s not shy! She speaks her mind. She’d have told you._

 _It’s my duty,_ Link snapped at himself. _I just…_

 _You’re a coward,_ the voice said, smugly.

 _So be it,_ Link glowered. _If it means that we can keep what we have, and Thoria is safe…_

 _But you have nothing, now,_ the voice said. _You’ve ruined it, like you ruin everything._

All too soon, their simple meal of smoked bacon and goats cheese was finished. Yeta gave the pair a fond farewell, leaning into Thoria as she hugged the yeti tightly, and resting her head on Link’s shoulder as he imitated the gesture.

“You stay safe, uh,” she said, softly. “We be thinking of you both. You both special.”

Yeto provided a pair of heavy sacks full of provisions for their trip up the mountain and back.

“I KNOW YOU NEEDS GET BACK TO CASTLE, UH,” he said. “NO NEED TO STOP BACK AT HOUSE. BUT COME BACK TO VISIT, UH. YETO MAKE SPECIAL SOUP!”

“We’d be honoured,” Thoria smiled. They stood at the foot of a long, narrow path. “Really.”

They left the yetis with a wave, and began their silent ascent. The path was narrow, and the winds were fierce. They hunkered down, squinting through the snow that was whipped up, lashing into their faces. More than once, Link put out a hand to steady Thoria, though it was clear she didn’t need it. Her smile was simple, and cool.

Though she took his hand and held it tightly, Link cursed himself all the way up the mountain. There was no way he could make this right now. He had denied her for far too long. His refusal to make their relationship public, the constant sneaking and hiding, even on the road, and his cowardice had ruined what they had. It had taken him too long to come to terms with his feelings for her, too long to kiss her, too long to overcome his demons and make his body whole with hers. Why, now, did he hesitate at the last hurdle? She had been so patient. He could not blame her if her tolerance was wearing thin.

Why was it so hard? How difficult was it, really, to say the words? Yes, it would make it all real. Admitting it aloud would make the Divines take notice, and they would strip it all away. He was nothing but their plaything, their pawn. He could not lose Thoria to their whims, but his cowardice meant that had lost her anyway.

Every now and then, as they traversed the barely visible slopes, their eyes would meet. Her eyes were deep, and full of hidden meaning. She would offer him her half-smile, but he did not return it. He knew it was only given out of pity.

Link hardened his resolve. Perhaps it wasn’t so bad. If she believed he didn’t love her, it would be easier for her to return home. As much as he didn’t want her to go, she was not of Hyrule. And the prophecy still stood. Dark times were due, and perhaps it _was_ for the best of Thoria went home. He didn’t know how it would happen, but… he sighed. The very thought rent his heart in twain, but it would be best for the kingdom. How long could he keep hiding from Zelda? Thoria would be safest if she was away from him, in no danger of a jealous and vengeful monarch-to-be. He could not keep disobeying the princess if he wanted to keep his love safe. His feelings no longer mattered, had never mattered in the grand scheme of things.

It was part of his curse, this eternal torment. A puppet for the whims of the Goddesses, forced to dance eternal for them in this never ending masquerade of heroism and evil and wisdom and courage and power and blight. He was powerless to deny them.

After several hours, creeping along the narrow path and seeking out the glowing stones that lit the way along the land that grew ever more barren, the slope levelled out. Through the blizzard, Link saw a semicircle cut into the rock before them, and a great, stone door set into the stone, sealed tight. Advancing, the biting wind lessened as they came under the lip of stone.

Thoria pushed her hood down and shook her cloak, sending snow to the ground. Link peered at the landscape. In front of the stone doors was a great, stone table of some sort, and a large, stone slab lay against it. The slab was inscribed with incomprehensible lettering.

“Ancient Hylian,” he said. He glanced at Thoria and waved a hand. “Can you…?”

“Yep.” Thoria moved closer. Link hesitated, wanting to catch her sleeve, pull her close, kiss her. Thoria knelt before the slab and ran her finger along the worn lettering.

“It’s a warning,” she said.

“Oh?” Link took a step closer.

“Take heed, thou wholt wish to take what lyeth within,” Thoria read, tracing the words. “A stone of great power lyeth behind these doors. To obtain this power, thou must have courage, thou must have might…”

Link shuffled a little closer.

“And…” Thoria stopped, her hand still against the stone.

“What?” Link said. “What does it say?”

“To open the doors,” Thoria said, in a voice as cold as the air around them. “A sacrifice must be made.”

Link’s heart dropped to his boots. “ _What_?”

“A sacrifice,” Thoria said, dully. She waved at the stone table. “Clearly, that’s what this is for. It’s a sacrificial alter.”

“What are we supposed to sacrifice?” Link said. “There aren’t any animals!”

Thoria looked at him. Her eyes were full of hurt and anger. “One of us.”

Link stepped back, aghast. “No. No way. Absolutely not.”

“That’s how we get the doors open,” Thoria said. “One of us has to be sacrificed.”

“There has to be another way,” Link said, desperately. He began to stare wildly about the cave, searching for… something. Anything.

“There is,” Thoria said. “We don’t get the artefact, go home, and we both live.”

Link paused as his skin prickled. “Thoria…”

“What’s the problem?” she asked, her voice rising in pitch. “We just turn around and go home. I’m not about to kill you, and I sure as shit don’t want to die!”

“We can’t,” Link said. His heart lurched. The Oath! He had no choice but to get the artefact back to Zelda, or his life, no, his very soul, would be forfeit. But what would Thoria say if she knew he had made such a vow? His life he would give gladly, but what would it mean for the Spirit of the Hero to be cast into the void? He shuddered at the thought. Hyrule might never again have the Hero they needed should Ganon ever come again! Without him, what would become of the kingdom?

He swallowed. “I… we need to get that artefact. I’m honour bound by my duty as Chosen Knight-“

“So, you’d happily kill me to skip back to Zelda with your present?” Thoria spat.

“No, I wouldn’t!” Link said.

“That’s what you’re saying!” Thoria cried. “You need to get the artefact, and someone needs to die to get it!”

“I don’t want to kill you, there has to be another way!” Link said, gripping his hair.

Thoria began to stride up and down the cave, cursing. Then, she stopped.

“She knew about this,” she said, her eyes wide. “Zelda. She knew about the sacrifice.”

“Thoria, come on!” Link said. “She said there was magic, but never this!”

“Because she knew you wouldn’t agree to take me,” Thoria said. “All that bull about testing me, to see if I was trustworthy, she just wanted me out of the way, and she knew you’d do it!”

It couldn’t be true. Zelda was jealous and obsessive, yes, but surely the princess would not stoop so low! Link pressed his palms to the sides of his head. “I’m not going to kill you!” he shouted. “I don’t want to!”

“Then we lie,” Thoria said. “The door was open, and the artefact was gone!”

“Impa would have seen,” Link argued. “She would have come up here to check when we were resting with Yeto and Yeta. There must be another way, we’ll go to a village and get a goat or something, we can’t leave it behind, we can’t lie to Zelda.”

“Why not?” Thoria said, her voice rising. “It’s the easiest thing in the world! ‘Oh, sorry Princess Prissy, the thingy wasn’t there!’ See? Easy!”

“That’s not the point! Zelda _needs_ it, it will help keep the kingdom safe! I need to protect the people, I… I’ve sworn…“

“Fine, protect them! You don’t need a magic pebble to do it!”

“Thoria, I’ve sworn by the goddesses-“

“Sworn nothing!”

“On my honour I can’t leave without it.” Link snapped.

“You mean you _won’t_ leave without it,” Thoria said. She shook her head. “I can’t believe this. After everything we’ve been through.” Tears were glistening in the corners of her eyes. “You won’t lie to save me, and there’s no other way around it, so you’re going to have to kill me, Link.”

“I don’t want to,” Link said again. _My soul be damned, I won’t do this!_ “You should kill me instead.”

Thoria laughed, high and shrill. “And then what? I go back to Zelda, having slain her one great love, her Hero, her Chosen Knight and wannabe husband? What happens to me then, Link?” She marched forwards, jabbing a finger at his chest.

“Admit it. I don’t mean a thing to you. You won’t even _contemplate_ lying to Zelda to save me, you’re just bullshitting. I mean nothing to you!”

“YOU MEAN EVERYTHING TO ME!” Link roared. “Don’t you understand? I am _nothing_ without you!” he lashed at the surrounding landscape. “I would die for you Thoria, I would throw everything I have off this mountain if it meant I could be with you!” He seized her by the shoulders. “ _I love you!_ ”

Thoria opened her mouth, and stumbled as a thunderous crack rent the air. Link leapt in front of her, drawing his sword.

The great seal at the back of the cave had split down the middle. As they watched, open mouthed, the crack widened, and the two halves of the seal rolled to the side and out of sight, into the rock.

Behind was a small pedestal, at hip height. On it was a dark green, crystal orb, the size of a clenched fist. Link and Thoria stared at it for a long while. Link’s heart was pounding. The seal had opened. The artefact was there. Was it a trick? He glanced at Thoria, and was surprised to see fresh tears rolling down her cheeks, and understanding in her eyes.

She looked at him and smiled, softly.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I was wrong.” She reached out and squeezed his hand.

“I don’t understand,” Link said, staring at the open doors. “I didn’t sacrifice anything!”

“You did,” Thoria murmured, laying her head on his chest. “What you just said. Giving everything up for me. It never said it had to be a blood sacrifice. You meant it. It counts.”

“I…” Link stopped and looked down at her. “I did mean it.”

Thoria reached up and kissed him, softly. “Shall we go home?”

Link nodded, wordlessly, and cautiously reached out for the orb. It was lighter than he expected, and he wrapped it securely in cloth before stowing it in his pouch. Sheathing his sword, he took Thoria’s hand again and stepped out into the snow. The blizzard had passed, and the flakes that fell from the sky floated softly on the whispering air, spiralling down to lie with a billion others at the top of the world.


	93. 93 - Zelda

Zelda paced in her suite, pulling her thick, fur robe about her. It was a beautiful thing, as white as the snow that was melting across Hyrule, as soft as a baby’s cheek, as warm as a summer’s morn. It was made of the finest fox fur, the animals bred in the Lanayru Province for their white, silken pelts. She smiled, knowing that no other noble owned such a fine garment.

Impa had returned the night previous, and given her account. She had followed the pair until they reached a dilapidated mansion, and watched from afar as they ascended the mountain. Zelda marvelled at the tale. _How_ Link had managed to survive an ice kraken, wolfos, and an avalanche astounded her, but he had done it. Of course he had done it. And for the first time, she was glad the stranger had survived as well, for she would be integral in the opening of the magical doors.

She shivered delightedly. _A sacrifice_. It was almost poetic, and she knew her Hero would accomplish his task. He would not disappoint her. Even if he was sliding from her as she feared, his oath meant he would do as he was bid, no matter what.

Zelda spent the next week in growing anticipation as the snow melted with the coming of spring. If her hunch was correct, Link would be devastated at the loss of his friend. She would be there for him as she had so foolishly not been when Midna returned to the Twilight realm, to comfort him, to soothe his hurts, to take his mind off the lasting effects of whatever spell this stranger had over him. And surely, the spell would at last be broken.

She would have to be gentle. She mustn’t push too hard. Had she not seen with her own eyes how he had shied from her advances? The poor thing. What a difficult position he was in, knowing his station, yet surely longing for her as she longed for him?

She rubbed her hands together and eyed her Triforce. The little triangles lay resolutely dull, the bottom left barely shimmering as she summoned a small ward. She frowned. There must be a way to unlock the power that was inside her, a way to regain that which was lost when she saved the Princess Midna.

She sat before the fire and laid her head back, closing her eyes, summoning the feeling of power she once touched. Floating above the throne, the energy crackling through her body, Ganon’s might coursing through her. She shivered again, relishing the memory, willing the power to return to her. If she had it, then Hyrule would be safe.

A dark chuckle sounded at the back of her mind. A half-forgotten memory. Once, it would have frightened her, but Zelda held on to it.

“One must know one’s enemy,” she murmured. “I will take from you what should be rightfully mine, and I will use it for the betterment of my kingdom.”

She summoned Link’s face into her mind, his dark brows, his thick, soft hair, a blonde so dark it was almost brown. His lips, serious and firm. His eyes, such a startling blue, and still feral, after all these years.

She sighed, holding the memory of power in one half of her mind, and his face in the other. He belonged to her. He just didn’t know it yet. Her hand rested at her collarbone, and began to drift down, along her chest, her stomach, her leg, and-

She jumped as the door to her suite opened. She peered round her chair to see Impa, brushing snow off her shoulders. Her face, concealed by her collar, was revealed as she unclipped it, allowing it to swing down. Her eyes were serious.

“Zelda,” she murmured. “Ser Link has returned.”

Zelda leapt to her feet, a smile breaking out across her face. “How wonderful!” she gushed. “How is he? He is not injured? How does he fare? Is he in need of comfort, or…?”

Impa raised her hands.

“The Lady Thoria has returned with him.”

Zelda staggered as though she had been struck. For a moment, she could not breathe, could not think, could not feel, for a black hole had opened at her feet, and she was falling, falling.

Impa sprang to her side and caught her arms in her strong hands.

“ _How?_ ” Zelda gasped. “He could not have failed me! He must… he must have… perhaps the artefact was not there!”

“The doors were sealed,” Impa murmured. “Zelda, I am sorry. It would appear that he has forsaken his task to preserve the Lady Thoria’s life.”

Zelda began to shake. “No. No, he swore an oath!” she stood straighter, pushing Impa away. “Send for him. For them both. I will meet with them in the Green Study.”

Within the hour, Zelda was striding towards the Green Study, her fists clenched. She gestured, and the door opened before her, her Triforce glowing. She swirled inside, and Link rose from his seat instantly. Lady Thoria was already standing. Zelda stopped a moment to observe them.

They looked exhausted. Their hair was matted and greasy, their eyes hollow, their skin pale and bruised. But Link still, somehow, managed to look handsome. They bowed.

Zelda forced herself to smile. They did not know about the sacrifice. She must not reveal her hand.

“Be seated,” she commanded, and swept to the sofa opposite, settling down with poise and regality. She kept her smile on her face, even though it was painful. “I am most pleased to see you both returned to the castle safely. Tell me of your journey.”

The stranger had not looked at her, Zelda noticed. She was keeping her gaze somewhere to the right of her, but when Link began to speak, she turned her head, focusing on him. Her face was impassive, but Zelda could not help but sense something in the room with them. She shook herself.

Link gave a brief account of their journey, which supported Impa’s tale, up until they reached the mountaintop.

“We found a sealed stone door,” he said, his fingers laced together, his elbows on his knees, his eyes on his feet. “There was no way to open it. We… tried everything we could think of.”

Thoria spoke up for the first time.

“There was a stone alter, and a slab with strange lettering on it,” she said, speaking to Zelda’s lap. She glanced at Link. “Did you say it was Ancient Hylian?”

He nodded. “I can’t read it. We were stuck.”

Zelda cursed herself. Of course! The magic would not have been so brazen as to have announced itself in their current tongue! How foolish of her! But she kept her smile on her face.

“I am sorry that your journey was for nothing,” she said, watching him. “It must have been most… frustrating.” She stared at Link. “I am deeply, deeply sorry.”

Link looked up at that. His expression was unreadable. Zelda swallowed past the lump in her throat. Was he angry with her? She had made him swear the oath that now condemned his very soul, and in her haste to be rid of the stranger, she had not given him the tools he needed! All for nothing. She steeled herself. But it… was surely his own doing. A sacrifice should have been obvious after a little consideration. To not sacrifice the Lady Thoria meant that he had knowingly, and willingly cast his soul into the void. She blinked back tears. So… so this meant… that he… they…

“It wasn’t for nothing,” Link said. He reached into his pouch and pulled out an object wrapped in cloth. “I don’t understand how it happened. But we were trying to figure out how to open the doors when we…” he stopped and glanced at the stranger.

“We were attacked,” Lady Thoria said, as Zelda stared at the object in Link’s hands. “A Lizalfos. Link killed it against the alter, and as its blood spilled, the door opened.” She raised her head and looked Zelda in the eye. The princess flinched, but she did not experience the dread she expected. The stranger’s eyes were soft, almost curious. “It was a stroke of good fortune, really, otherwise we would have had to return empty handed.” She smiled, and tilted her head. “Link says you mentioned there was a spell on the doors, Highness. Did you know it was of a sacrificial nature?”

“No,” Zelda shook her head, her gaze flickering to Link, who was staring at the carpet. “I am horrified to hear of it. I am most thankful to the Divines that you were both able to return to me safely.”

Link nodded. “Thank you, your Highness.” He passed the wrapped object to Impa, who in turn, passed it to Zelda. She took it reverently, and carefully peeled off the cloth. The artefact was a simple stone, light to the touch, and warm. She held it tightly, relief washing over her, making her giddy. Her Hero was safe after all, he had managed to fulfill his oath! She raised the artefact to her eyes.

 _So, this is it,_ she thought. _The ability to raise an army more powerful than that of the entire kingdom. At last, I shall fear Dool no more, and I have the power behind me to protect my love from the stranger’s evil clutches!_ She glanced up at the pair.

“I thank you for your efforts,” she said, softly. “You have my leave. Go and rest.”

“Thank you, your Highness,” Link bowed to her and rose, Lady Thoria close behind. Zelda did not miss the fact that her bow was a mere bending of her shoulders, and Impa shot her a dark look as they left, together.

“Leave me,” Zelda murmured. Impa obeyed.

The princess sat alone, cradling the artefact. She would experiment with it the next day, when she was rested, and her mind was clearer. She sighed, replaying the meeting in her mind.

It made sense, what they had said. The fortune of discovering the sacrificial nature of the seal by accident. A sudden thrill of fear ran through her. What if Link figured it out? That she knew, and had deliberately sent them with the intention of ending the stranger? She shook herself. No. That was impossible. Link must never suspect her! She had denied it, and he would never think to question her. If he was to love her as much as she loved him…

Her thoughts darkened. He would love her regardless. He must. It was his duty.

And still the stranger lived! The goddesses truly seemed content to play with her, the princess thought, glaring across the darkening room. They tested and teased her, dangling the hope of ridding the land of this pestilence before her, then snatching it away by bestowing good fortune upon this strange and dangerous woman.

But perhaps… Zelda closed her eyes and bowed her head. Perhaps there was a reason for that. Though her blood was divine, she was no longer a goddess. The goddesses that created and ruled over Hyrule clearly knew so much more than she, a mere princess, could ever hope to know. Despite all her best efforts, the stranger still lived. Even making Link swear a holy Oath of Promise to ensure her demise had failed. Nothing short of divine intervention could have circumvented such a vow.

Zelda raised the artefact and held it to her cheek. It was strangely warm. If Thoria had managed to survive her every attempt to remove her from Hyrule, then maybe… just maybe… she was meant to be here?

What if her father had been right? What if Thoria’s arrival only heralded the coming of dark times, not that she would be the cause of them? Had she persecuted and wronged this woman because of her own foolishness? Her own jealousy of her Chosen Knight being forced to spend each and every day with her? Link’s reports, and those of her spies all told her the same thing, after all. That she showed no sign of malicious intent. None whatsoever. Yes, Navi said the opposite, but it was no secret that she had long harboured a love for their Hero, and fairies were prone to fits of jealousy.

Zelda let loose the smallest of sobs. Had she truly been so blind, so biased? She trusted her Hero. He would not betray her. The Lady Thoria, by all accounts, was an intelligent, capable woman. Yes, she was brash, a little crude, and perhaps arrogant on occasion, but had she really snubbed a potential ally by conjuring things that were not there? What if Lady Thoria had been sent to _protect_ them from the oncoming darkness?

If the goddesses saw fit to allow her to live, even going to far as to ensure Link’s Oath of Promise was kept even with her survival, then perhaps Zelda had been wrong. She dabbed at her eyes. No more. She would retire to her chambers and figure out how to use this artefact to strengthen her army. Then she would speak with the Lady Thoria. Perhaps she would be able to give a new perspective on how to better the kingdom. And the Divines knew, with her quick wit and searing sarcasm, perhaps she might just put the rest of the council in their rightful place. Perhaps the Lady Thoria could be a valuable ally in the times to come.

She sighed deeply, placing her head in her hands. If nothing else, she owed the Lady Thoria a heartfelt apology. She could not know the extent of what Zelda had done to try to be rid of her, but surely even Thoria would have noticed that she had not exactly been the warmest or most welcoming host. No wonder she clung to Link like glue, for aside from his royal duty, he was the only person to spare her a kind word that she knew of. She would have to make it up to her. Subtly, of course, but nonetheless. She was a princess. Certain things were expected of her.

Zelda rose, clutching the artefact to her breast like a new mother clutches her babe. She would need time to come to terms with it all, for ignoring the truth because she mistakenly believed that Thoria was stealing away her beloved. Perhaps she would still take that picnic with Link, and with her new outlook on Thoria, he could relax somewhat, and begin to see how much she loved him, and he could come to terms with his own feelings for her as well.

She would still make him her king, for her love for him had only grown. But, for the first time, the Lady Thoria stood beside them in her imaginings, next to Impa, as a new, and valuable adviser to the royal couple.


	94. 94 - Link

After a hot bath and an astoundingly large meal that Mallory was only too happy to provide, Link collapsed on his bed, too exhausted to even remove his boots. He smiled as he felt them slide off his feet, and Thoria curled up next to him, nestling in the crook of his arm, her head resting on his chest. Her fingers ran along his cheek, scratching through the beard that he was yet to shave off. He remembered Thoria liked facial hair, and decided to leave it well alone.

They did not speak. There was no need for that. They had talked enough on the journey home, which, considering their difficult and dangerous climb, was surprisingly easy. Though Thoria grew wearier by the day, she soon perked up as they reached the Caught Cod and booked a room for the night, falling into each other’s arms with relish. Collecting their horses the next day, Link spent a good half an hour fussing and cuddling Epona before they set off, worry growing over their heads like a cloud.

What would Zelda say when she saw Thoria alive? And was it really possible that she had known about the sacrificial nature of the magic? Thoria was convinced that was the case. But thankfully, their meeting had gone well, and Zelda seemed to accept their carefully rehearsed lie. Link stared at the dark ceiling. He had expected to feel guilty, but he had felt nothing but relief when the princess dismissed them. It was a strange sensation for him. The Zelda that he had always known had been pure of spirit and kind of heart. That wasn’t to say she wasn’t ruthless. She had all but wiped out the Gerudo for killing the Hero of Time, after all.

But love was a dangerous thing. It came in many forms, but only one was true. He felt the obsession Zelda had for him was something she would call love, but he knew it wasn’t real. The love he had for Navi, or Ilia, or Saria was nothing but platonic, a love borne of friendship. The love he once held for Malon had been genuine, but it now seemed that it was a mere coincidence, a meeting of two people who shared some similar hobbies and values, thrown together by fate.

But the love he had for Thoria could not be described. It was as true as air, as bright as the sun, as fierce as a raging storm. All other loves he had felt in his time were dwarfed by this, this incessant passion, this burning inferno. And he knew that the deeper his love was for her, the more danger they would both be in.

And now they were back at the castle, locked away in his rooms. It was not the safest place to be, by any stretch, but at least he knew he could lock his door and cover his windows. Here was their own refuge, their own little slice of heaven, small as it was. Perhaps it would not be forever. Perhaps, one day, they would have a place to call their own.

He smiled into the growing darkness. The relief he felt was indescribable. It seemed now that all his fears of confessing his love to Thoria were small, silly things, the deed having been done. What had he been afraid of, really? Rejection? That wasn’t possible. She loved him as much as he loved her, she had said so. Zelda’s wrath? That was a constant danger, and Thoria knowing the true depths of his feelings for her wouldn’t change it. Their relationship changing? His smile widened. It had changed, but it had changed for the better.

He felt closer to her than he had ever thought possible. It was almost as if they were breathing with one breath, their hearts beating not as two separate things, but as one. And he had noticed, almost without realising, that they were communicating fully not through words, but through subtle looks, small movements of their bodies, a quirk of a lip or brow, a slight turn of the head.

He turned and kissed her hair, breathing her in.

“I love you,” he whispered.

She slid an arm across his belly and chuckled.

“I love you, too.”

Link shuffled and rolled so he could face her. He put the tip of his nose to hers and ran a hand over her shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

Thoria opened her eyes and peered at him. “What for?”

“For not telling you sooner,” he said. “I was a fool.”

She smiled, and touched his face with soft, warm fingers.

“I get it,” she said, her voice as soft and musical as a songbird. “I understand why. But…” she looked away and rolled onto her back. “I can’t read your mind. Much as you might think I can. And though we can talk well enough without words, some things merit saying aloud.”

“I was an idiot,” Link said, propping himself up on an elbow. “It was hard. Terrifying, even. I thought if I said it, I…”

“I know,” Thoria interrupted, gently. “You’ve said. And I do understand. It’s why I didn’t say it, either. I thought you didn’t feel the same.”

“What?” Link levered himself higher and stared down at her. “Why?”

“Because you wouldn’t,” she said, simply. “All those chances you had? Sure, I could have. But the more you refused, the more I thought that…” she stopped and curled back into him. “Never mind. I know now. That's what matters. You're all that matters.”

Link pulled her close and buried his face in her shoulder. “I’m such an idiot,” he mumbled. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know it hurt you like that. If I’d have known…”

“Pipe down,” she said, her voice muffled. “You're not, you're human, like the rest of us. It’s in the past. The best we can do now is learn from it. We just need to communicate.”

“I’m not very good at that,” Link admitted, drawing a laugh from her.

“You’re getting better,” Thoria wrapped her arms around his back and trailed her fingers across his shoulders. “We both need to work at it. I’m sure there are things you’re not ready to tell me. There will be things that happen that you need to process before you talk about them. And that’s okay. It just takes time. If there’s something on your mind, just let me know. If you’re not ready to talk about it, that’s okay too. So long as I know where your head’s at.”

“I’ll try,” Link promised. “It can’t be any fun, knowing something’s wrong and not knowing what.”

“Yeah.” Thoria wriggled and yawned. “I guess it’s the same for you. Not knowing how to help me when I can’t remember things, or get sad when I do.”

“So long as you do the same, and tell me things eventually,” Link said, giving her a playful squeeze. She chuckled.

“I will. If there’s anything…” she paused. “Like you, I’d need time to work up to it. Now I know you love me as much as I love you, I…” she paused again and sighed. “I know I can trust you.”

“Mm.” Link mumbled. It was enough to know she loved him. Enough to know she trusted him. He didn’t need to know each and every thing about her right this very moment. It was part of the fun, the simple joy of it, learning about her as they grew together. This cocky, brash, funny woman he had grown to love had shown a tender side, a quiet side, a shy side that he could nurture and help grow as much as she had for him. Together, they could face each challenge life set at their feet. And he knew that there would be trials ahead.

The dawn would bring a new day, and with it, a new challenge. With his confession, he now had to think more seriously about what was to become of them and their relationship. Could they hide forever? And would it be fair to do so? Would it be safe, if Zelda truly did seek him as a husband? He shuddered. How much trouble would they both be in if, no, when they revealed themselves? And how would they do it? How honest could they be? What possible path could they take that would keep them safe, and together?

Whatever path he chose, he knew he would walk it with Thoria. He watched her as her breathing began to slow, and her eyes began to rove under her lids as she slipped into a dream. He resisted the urge to pull her tightly to him and wake her, just to see the colour of her eyes again. An idea began to form in his mind. An idea that could possibly save them both, and bind them together even more tightly. It would be dangerous. If Zelda would be angry at the idea of them being together, he dreaded to think what her reaction to this idea would be. It was too dangerous. He tried to force it from his mind.

But the idea would not go away.

He shook his head and closed his eyes, settling down into the warmth of Thoria’s arms. There was no point in worrying about it now. Not now, when everything was perfect. They were together, they were safe, held together by a bond stronger than steel, an invisible chain that wound around them both and bound them to one another. But this chain, unlike those he had suffered in his long, countless lifetimes was not made of iron or malice or pain. It was made of sunlight and birdsong, of summer flowers beneath an autumn sky, of laughter and love, and an eternal promise, not quite yet spoken, that rang like a bell through his mind and set his soul on fire.


	95. 95 - Navi

Navi stared up at the lid of her prison. Lying flat on her back, she raised a hand and drew invisible patterns on the pale underside of the bottle’s lid.

She had been stuck in the bottle for what felt like an eternity. Though she knew it had only been a season and some, it felt like so, so much longer. There was nothing to do but sit and wait, wait for someone to notice her, for someone to let her out.

But no one ever did. No matter how much Navi leapt and screamed and waved at the maids that occasionally bumbled into the sorceress’s rooms to clean, they never seemed to see her. They barely looked in her direction, and even on the rare occasion that they did, their eyes glossed over her as though she didn’t exist.

Navi didn’t give up. Each time the door opened, no matter what state of sleep or stupor she was in, she would rouse herself and look. If it was a maid, she would begin her fruitless ritual, flailing her hands and shrieking until her throat was raw and painful, using her magic to conjure bright flashes of white and blue, a veritable display of fireworks that left coloured spots on her eyes for minutes afterwards.

She soon had to give up on that exercise. The sorceress, true to her word, had occasionally dropped a crust of stale bread or a thimbleful of water into the bottle. Navi didn’t truly need the sustenance, but she gobbled whatever was given. Without food, she needed the sunlight to give her energy, and with the arrival of winter, there was little enough of that to go around.

The sorceress’s visits to her room were infrequent, but when she did come, Navi watched her, horrified by the magic she practiced.

She didn’t do _much_. She practiced levitating, conjuring small flames to flicker in the palms of her hands, turning the lamps on and off with no match or taper. She once conjured and apple to eat as she made notes in a small book. A lot of the time, it seemed as though she was struggling, frowning in concentration as she performed her sorcery. But that didn’t matter. It didn’t matter that it seemed as though she was inexperienced. Navi knew evil when she saw it, and was convinced that the witch was pretending to be a novice, knowing she was watched.

Navi often wondered where she was, those nights that she did not return to her rooms, and shuddered, dreading to think where she might be, instead of in her own bed.

Her curiosity was answered two weeks after she was first trapped, as Link followed the stranger into her rooms. Navi had never screamed so loud, nor danced so energetically as she did when she saw her darling Hero. Surely, _surely_ he would see through the magic, would see her trapped, and save her! Save her, like the Hero he was.

But his eyes were only for the sorceress. Navi had collapsed in a horrified, despairing heap as he took the evil bitch in his strong, wonderful arms, kissing her, smiling at her, laughing with her. Navi could only weep as she observed what followed, unable to scrub the image of their tangled bodies from her mind, knowing her Hero was well and truly under a spell, bewitched and helpless.

Time passed, and they appeared randomly, sometimes in the morning, sometimes after lunch, and sometimes in the dead of night. Navi despaired, clawing her face, tearing at her hair, watching the wicked sorceress defile her love over and over and over.

But in the depths of winter, they stopped coming. Navi barely had the energy to wonder why. She was exhausted. The sorceress hadn’t been in her rooms for _ages_ , and with the grim winter weather, there had hardly been any sunlight to sit in. Navi did not truly feel hunger, or thirst, as the Hylians knew it, but she felt tired. So tired. She could barely summon the energy to sit up. The room was always so cold, and it took all the magic she could spare to keep herself warm.

Although the winter had finally begun to temper and turn to spring, her reserves was sapped. She had eaten nothing in about a month. Sleep fought off the sharpest edges of her fatigue, but she knew it wasn’t enough. If she didn’t get some sustenance soon, she would wither away to a frail husk.

She wouldn’t die. That she knew. Fairies were immortal unless they were killed or used by a bigger, mortal supplementing their life essence with theirs. No. She would not die. But she would be weak, so weak she would barely be able to raise her head until she could source some energy, slowly sliding into madness as her mind folded in on itself, trapped forever with nothing but her own thoughts. And how could she save her darling Link if she was so weak?

A tear slid from the corner of her eye. She hadn’t seen him in so long. For all she knew, Link was dead. Dead, or enslaved as the vile sorceress took over the kingdom. For a moment, Navi wondered if that was the case, for surely she would have been discovered as the soldiers took over in battle, seeking her out, looking to smite the evil that infested the castle.

But no. If the sorceress had been successful, then there would be no heroic knight to search her rooms, to find poor, forgotten Navi. Another tear slid down her cheek. And what of her own Heroic Knight? Her Link, her darling, her companion? Surely if the sorceress had taken over Hyrule, he would rise up to put a stop to it?

Navi rolled onto her side. Such thoughts aided her none. She was trapped, and nothing short of a miracle would get her out of this thrice-damned bottle. She could not get out to fly to Link, to tell him of the dark magic she saw. Not that he would believe her, bewitched as he was. No, she would have to tell Zelda. Even the diplomatic princess could not ignore her this time. And even if she didn’t believe her about the stranger’s foul magic, the other things she had seen her do to Navi’s sweet, innocent Hero would surely spur the princess on to do something!

Navi toyed with the hem of her shift. When she had more magic, she had duplicated the strands that she had pulled from her garment in a fit of boredom and practiced her weaving. When the winter arrived and blotted out the sun, she had been forced to give up that endeavour, and had pulled apart all her little woven toys to make a small pillow and tiny blanket to ward off the frigid air.

She huddled under this blanket now, wishing for the warmth of Link’s collar, snuggled up against his neck, feeling his smooth, hot skin that smelled of the forest and of hay. The grey spring days did not bring her that same warmth. Nothing did. A third tear slid from beneath her lids. She only wanted him safe. It was all she ever wanted. Safe, away from the troubles of Hyrule, away from the monsters, away from this stranger, close to her once more. She could not bear the thought of him hurt.

Hugging herself, Navi drifted in and out of slumber, barely paying attention to the changing light outside her bottle, rousing herself only to seek the weak, winter sun that shone oh so rarely.

“Oh, yes, they came back a week ago!”

The door to Thoria’s room had opened, and Navi awoke from her daze, her muscles aching. A maid stood in the doorway, her back to the room.

“It’s lovely to have him back. I’ll bet they’ve both got quite the story to tell.”

Navi couldn’t hear the person the portly maid was talking to. She strained her ears. She hadn’t seen Link nor the bitch sorceress in what felt like years. She buzzed her wings furiously. The thought of them alone, outside the castle, where no one could see them! Her heart ached. Her poor Link. He must have been so lost, so hurt, so frightfully confused without her, his Navi, by his side to guide him!

“Yeah, we’ll hear about it, sho-nuff,” the maid was saying. “Mm-mm! How I’m happy he’s back. Yes, he does look rather dishy! Don’t you be getting’ any ideas, he’s too good for the likes of us!”

 _How right you are!_ Navi thought, eyeing the maid’s corpulent behind. Link was too good for anyone, except her, and the princess. At least he was back now. That meant he might come back to the sorceress’s rooms… she shuddered. All he had to do was look for her, and she would be let free, and she could tell him everything! He would have to believe her, she wouldn’t willingly trap herself in a bottle in the sorceress’s rooms and be stuck for months! Just to see his face would surely give her the energy she needed!

The maid chuckled and bumbled into the rooms, sweeping the carpet, whistling tunelessly. Navi roused herself and began to shout and scream, leaping up and down and flitting about as much as her prison would allow. She knew in her heart it was pointless. But surely her Link would still see her, if only he would come!

Navi screamed for half an hour as the maid trundled about, until her voice was once again ragged and her preciously conserved energy was sapped. She collapsed to the floor, weeping. It was no good. No matter how she tried, she just couldn’t escape. Her Link was in danger, her love, her wonderful Hero, ensnared by this evil sorceress that infected Hyrule with her foul presence. As the maid neared the shelves, Navi clambered to her feet, and tried again, hollering and waving.

The maid pushed the books on the shelf aside, flitting about with her duster. She was oblivious to Navi, screaming for attention in the bottle. But in moving the books, the bottle had moved as well. As the maid left, carting a small bag of dust, Navi realised that the bottle was on the very edge of the shelf, with nothing below but the carpet, and the edge of the oakwood dresser.

Navi threw herself at the wall of the bottle. It had no effect. She drove her shoulder into it again, wincing at the impact.

In her mind, she saw them together, the sorceress and her Hero. How she enticed him to her chambers over and over to rub her victory in Navi’s face! His face, a mask of ecstasy as she kissed him, lower and lower. His eyes wild with passion as he threw her to the bed, tearing at her clothes. How his lips sought hers, over and over, as they curled up together, her wicked hands moving over him. The way he kept himself awake, staring at her in the dark. The way he smiled at her, his eyes full of… full of…

Navi screamed and gave it all she had, throwing herself at the glass walls, and the bottle shifted. It wobbled on the edge of the shelf. She froze, waiting. It teetered, half on, half off the shelf.

Navi gave the walls of her prison one final shove.

The bottle tipped, tilted, and hung, suspended for a moment, before finally toppling. The bottom of it caught the edge of the dresser and shattered. In a whirl of broken glass, Navi shot out.

 _She was free_.


	96. 96 - Link

The spring morning was bright as Link opened his eyes. Thoria was nestled in the crook of his arm, her hand on his bare chest. He took a moment to savour the way her fingers splayed against him, pale skin against tan, the way her lips parted, the way her eyes moved under her lids. Her hair was tangled, testament to the previous night.

He shifted and rolled to his side and she stirred, moving her hand to grasp his back, pulling him closer as she dreamed.

“I love you,” he whispered.

She smiled, her eyes closed. Her lips moved, forming the words, though no sound came from them. He thought back to their first kiss, hidden under a veil of vines and tree roots, and how he thought that if he could, he would freeze the moment. He was glad that he didn’t. For if he could stop time, this moment would be the one. The time he would cherish forever.

She stirred and opened her eyes. He smiled as he watched her come to wakefulness, her eyes unseeing, and then focusing on his own. She blinked, slowly, and leaned in to kiss him.

“Good morning.”

“Hey,” he returned her kiss and pulled her closer, feeling the heat of her skin against his own. “How did you sleep?”

“Like a log.”

“Same.” He stretched, groaning. “Did you want to do anything today?”

She smiled, and her hand wandered. Link chuckled. “After that, I mean.”

She shrugged elegantly, her fingers strong and warm. “I hadn’t thought about it. What do you want to do?”

“Mm,” Link settled back, his eyes fluttering closed as she caressed him. “I dunno.”

Thoria propped herself up on one elbow, her smile sultry. “We could go to town? Spar, maybe? Have a wander through those vaults you told me about?”

“Okay…” Link murmured, distracted. “Whatever you like.”

“Let’s decide later,” she said, and kissed him. He didn’t fight it. Though the memory of his shadow still growled in the depths of his mind, it was distant, barely an echo. He shoved it away as he rose to meet her and pushed her down, knowing that nothing could ever stop him from loving her as much as he did.

Later, as they were dressing, Link stretched, feeling loose and fluid and happy.

“I don’t know about you,” he said. “But I think I feel like a walk. The gardens are beautiful in spring. There’s loads of flowers. Maybe you could teach me some more of their names?”

“That sounds good,” Thoria shook out her hair, combing it with her fingers. “Spar first?”

“Sure. Do you need to go back to your rooms? Get anything?”

“Nah,” Thoria stretched and bent, causing Link’s mind to go completely blank. “I’ve got all I need here. With you.”

He smiled. “I love you.”

She came close and touched the tip of her nose to his.

“And I love you,” she replied, her eyes half lidded. She took his hand and pulled him to his feet. “Come on. We’ve not trained in ages. I’m worried I’m gonna forget things.”

Their sparring session was brief and intense. Thoria, it seemed, had forgotten none of his lessons, and proved to be a worthy opponent. It was only by sheer chance that Link managed to land a fatal strike, the sun coming out from behind the clouds and shining into Thoria’s eyes.

He felt a little cheap, taking the opportunity to rest his sword against her beautiful throat, but in the real world, a true enemy would have done the same. Better he prepare her for every danger possible. She smiled at him and flicked the sword off her shoulder.

“Let’s go,” she said.

They didn’t head for the kitchens, but took a meandering route about the gardens, marvelling at the new life that came with spring. Birds chirruped in the trees, newly budded with green leaves and pink blossoms, and flowers were just beginning to push their way up from the soil. Almost without thought, Link let his hand slide into Thoria’s, and she held it loosely. It felt natural. It felt right.

They came to the tiny wooded area of the gardens as the sun came out from behind the clouds once again, bathing them in cool light. They stopped under one of the blossoming trees near the path, and Thoria stepped in front of him, holding his hand, looking up at him with her gentle half smile. The castle walls rose up on one side, a wall of white stone peppered with narrow windows. Monkshead and goldenrod blossomed about their feet. None of that mattered in their own little world.

Again, he was struck by her beauty, like a physical force that sent power thrumming through his chest. But it wasn’t just how she looked. It was _her_ , who she was, her very being that was beautiful. She could have had the appearance of a bokoblin, and he would still find her beautiful, the way he had found Midna beautiful, even when she was an imp.

True beauty, the beauty all seek is found in the soul, and Thoria had the purest, most wonderful soul he had ever had the good fortune to find.

“When are we going to tell people?” she asked. A pink petal floated down from above and landed in her hair.

Link smiled, gazing at her. “Soon,” he said. “We just need to find the right words, the right time.”

Thoria chuckled. “Best not to wait for too long,” she said. “How should we do it?”

Link smiled. The dappled shadows on her cheeks danced in the soft breeze. He took her face in his hands, bent his head and kissed her deeply, knowing with every fibre of his being that this was the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.

“I don’t know yet,” he said. “Whatever way we do it, we’re putting ourselves in danger. I’d be putting you in danger. If Zelda truly knew about the sacrifice-“

“She did. I know it. There’s a reason why she’s been so nice to me lately. She feels guilty.”

“Then we need to do it soon. It won’t be easy. We’d need to plan for all possible outcomes.”

“Okay,” Thoria said. She tilted her face and he kissed her again.

“We’ll figure it out,” he said.


	97. 97 - Zelda

Zelda gripped the windowsill, her knuckles white. Her back was rigid, and her breath trembled in her throat as she stared down at couple under the tree.

“See?” Navi said, perched on her shoulder. “I told you.”

“It… it can’t be,” Zelda whispered. Her eyes felt hot and dry. “Surely you are mistaken… _I_ must be mistaken.”

Navi laughed, bitterly. “Don’t deny what your eyes see, Princess. They’ve been doing this in secret for months now.”

“How can this be?” Zelda asked, more to herself than to the fairy. Navi answered anyway.

“Because the stranger is filled with a dark power,” she said. “You must have noticed Link hasn’t been the same since he found her at the lake.”

“He has always been reserved,” Zelda said, quickly. “Always polite.”

“And ever-more distant from us both,” Navi said. “The stranger has evil powers. She trapped me in a bottle for ages, Princess. I used all of my power against her and she didn’t even flinch.”

Zelda shook her head. “Navi, I have the utmost respect for you, but you are a fairy. Your magic is great, but…”

“She’s evil!” the fairy almost shrieked. “And kissing isn’t all they’ve been doing, either. I saw them, in the bottle. They’ve been going at it like trained whores!”

A chill spread through Zelda’s body. “They have lain together?”

“Every chance they get,” Navi spat.

Zelda nodded slowly, and turned back to the window. The space under the tree was now empty, but still she saw the shadows of Link and Thoria. She saw his head bend towards the dark-haired woman, she saw the smile on his face as he stepped away. She could no longer deny it, this thing she had feared, and a sick heat settled in her chest.

“He was supposed to be mine,” she whispered. “When Father passes, I was going to make a new law. So we could finally marry and the old traditions be damned.”

“You still can,” Navi said. “You’re a princess, soon to be queen, and no one would deny you.”

“But his heart wouldn’t be mine,” Zelda said. “Does he know of her power?”

“No,” Navi said. “He ignored me or told me off every time I’ve ever brought it up.”

Zelda nodded. Then she smiled. It was a dark smile, a slow, spreading of her lips that twisted her cheeks and cast an evil humour over her face. She straightened. “Leave me, Navi. I have more research to do. The word of one fairy is not enough to bring the woman to trial, but my research might.”

Navi hesitated, but Zelda shot her a look and she departed. Zelda walked to her desk, each footstep leaden. The more she played the scene in her head, the memory of Link’s betrayal, the darker her thoughts became. A strange, burning sensation sat in her chest, slowly spreading along her arms and torso, making her skin prickle with power.

 _He is mine,_ she thought. _Mine, by my birthright, by my station as princess, by my might as a bearer of the Triforce! None shall come between us._

How could she ever have entertained the possibility that this woman was a potential ally? How could she have been so foolhardy as to believe that Link was safe from her wiles? How could she have been so stupid as to think that the woman had been saved by divine might? No, no, no! This woman was clearly a witch, a sorceress, a blight on the land. She should have trusted herself! She, who was descended from the Goddess Hylia, could never be wrong!

Zelda hissed between her teeth. Her Link, her Hero, her Chosen Knight was bewitched, and because of her diplomacy, her hesitancy, her failure as a regent, he had been captivated and put under a spell that threatened to take him from her and destroy her kingdom! This vile stranger who wanted nothing but her beloved! She clenched her fists. _How dare she._

It was as though a curtain had been held over the window of understanding, and someone had just pulled it back. Light flooded into her mind, bringing clarity with the sharpness of a knife. The back of her hand tingled, and with it, came the ghost of a feeling half forgotten, half buried. The feeling of ultimate power, the power to shape the land to her will. It was but a shadow, the Triforce of Power lost to the ages, but it was there. It sparked like electricity, and from the depths of her mind, she began to formulate a plan.

Wisdom was all she had, and wisdom would show her the way. She would outsmart this vile wretch, and save her darling from her evil clutches.

Zelda eased herself into her chair, shifting rolls of parchment to make room on the desk. She picked up two scrolls, the prophecy and the Historia extract. She glanced at her fireplace, crackling merrily with the flames that warded away the spring chill. Her eyes found her favourite figurine, the three goddesses entwined around the Triforce. Nayru was covered with cracks, and as she watched, the little goddess seemed to fold in on herself, and she disintegrated, crumbling into misshapen chunks of porcelain.

“ _Dark times will befall Hyrule when a dark stranger comes…”_ Zelda muttered. With a shaking hand, she picked up her quill and dipped it in ink, at last relaxing, releasing her soul, finally giving herself over to the dark power that was calling.


	98. 98 - Link

“Dodge!” Link shouted, lunging at Thoria with his sword. She leapt nimbly to the side, following up with a devastating swipe of her own. Link parried, and blocked with his shield, forcing her back.

“Attack!” he called. Thoria charged, shield up, her blade ready. Link met her, their shields clanging together in the still air, and was almost bowled over by the force of it. He held his ground, and pushed back, keeping away from her sword. When she raised it to strike, he raised his own to her undefended side.

“Stalemate,” she said.

“Nope.” Link replied, and shoved her, hard. She stumbled back and fell, and Link leapt forwards, driving his blade into the ground next to her head. For a moment, they stared at each other.

“Fucking hell,” Thoria said, her eyes wide. “That was close. You could have taken my head off!”

“I know,” Link said. “That’s why I aimed next to you. In a real fight, with someone more ruthless than me, you wouldn’t be so lucky.”

“I thought fights were meant to be honourable?” Thoria took his offered hand and allowed him to pull her up.

Link laughed. “Fighting with honour is for stories,” he said. “When it’s your life or theirs, you can bet your opponent will fight dirty.”

“Fight dirty, got it.”

“Well…” Link hesitated. “Sometimes. If your opponent is more powerful than you, then yes. If they are weaker, it’s fairer to dispatch them quickly.”

“But won’t they fight dirty?” Thoria asked, storing her sword and shield in the weapons shed. “If they’re weaker than me?”

“It’s a strong probability that all your opponents will,” Link replied. “Be aware of it.”

“Noted.” She stepped closer. “Have you thought about… you know.”

Link smiled, resisting the urge to kiss her. Anyone could appear from around the corner. “Yes. I still don’t know the best way. I don’t want to keep hiding any more.”

“Nor me. I suppose we should just… sit her down and tell her. Get it over with.”

“That’s probably the best way.”

“Chances are I’ll get arrested,” Thoria smirked. “For enticing away her love.”

Link chuckled and shook his head. “I won’t let that happen. But I know in my heart that, no matter how we tell her, she won’t take it well. She’d be furious.” He took a deep breath.

“You know more about me than anyone,” he said. “And through all the trouble we’ve had, all the sneaking and hiding and danger, you’ve stuck with me. Loved me. Royal order be damned. I… can’t express how much that means to me.”

Thoria tilted her head to the side, a puzzled smile on her face.

“I know things are hard now,” Link continued. “But I know they’ll get easier, especially if… if we’re far from here. My life has been nothing but loss and pain, but you… you’ve made it all worthwhile.”

“It sounds like you’re gearing up to something,” Thoria said, with a low chuckle. “What is it?”

Link stared into her eyes. “Maybe we should just… elope?”

Thoria blinked, her eyebrows shooting up. “Are you… proposing to me?”

Link smiled as his heart began to race. “I suppose I am.”

Thoria stared at him as a smile began to spread across her face. “Seriously?”

He bit his lip. “Seriously.”

Her smile brightened the land around them and she laughed, taking a skipping step and putting her hands to her face. “Well then. Yes!”

Link’s heart leapt. “Really?”

“Really, really.”

He laughed and put his hands to his head. “Thank Hylia. I was afraid you’d say no.”

“Why would I?” Thoria smiled. “I love you.” Then she squeaked and danced a little on the spot, leaping in a circle, laughing fit to burst.

Again, Link fought the urge to kiss her, to sweep her into his arms and whirl her through the air. He settled for grasping her hands as she calmed, swallowing past the lump in his throat.

“So…” she said, ducking her head and smoothing her hair. “Eloping! With you! God above. Should we go now… or, no… we need to plan… We’d be on the run for the rest of our lives, though.”

“But we’d be together.”

She smiled. “We would. That’s what counts.”

Link smiled. Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes were bright. She was almost glowing, and he thought in that moment that she had never been more beautiful. The world seemed to spin, a carousel of starlight that whirled about him, and she was there. She had accepted! He laughed again, not bothering to fight the smile that split his face.

She glanced down at her feet. “Let’s go to the alcove. We can talk about it there. And…there’s something I need to tell you.”

Link stepped closer to her. “Sure. What is it?”

She gave a soft laugh. “It might change your mind about me.”

“I doubt that,” Link squeezed her hands. “I love you, Thoria.”

“And I love you.” She met his eyes, and they shone in the sunlight. “Remember that.”

Link grinned, his heart overflowing. “I will,” he said. “Do you want-“

He broke off. Impa was striding through the training yard, her white hair windswept, her red eyes expressionless above her tall collar. As she approached, Link dropped his hand and half-stepped in front of Thoria.

“Her Highness requests your presence in the Throne Room immediately,” Impa said. “Both of you.”

Link glanced at Thoria, who looked as nonplussed as he was. They fell into step behind Impa, who led them at a brisk pace through the yard and to the castle. She paused at the great doors of the throne room and turned to them.

“Any weapons you have, leave them here,” she said, her eyes moving between them both. Link frowned.

“I am the princess’s Chosen Knight-“

“And she has requested all weapons are to be left outside the throne room,” Impa cut him off. “You as well, Lady Thoria.”

Thoria shrugged and unstrapped the dagger at her calf, handing it over to Impa. Link undid his weapons belt, allowing his sword, shield and pouch to slide into his hands. He passed them over, feeling very vulnerable.

“Now,” Impa said. “Inside.”

The doors opened, and Link entered the Throne Room, Thoria by his side.

The walls were lined with guards, each holding their customary spear, ceremonial swords at their hips. The nobility were in attendance, peering over the high balcony at the pair as they made their way through the long chamber. Princess Zelda sat stiffly on the throne, wearing her battle-dress, gripping the arms of the throne. All eyes were upon them, and the silence was suffocating.

Link swallowed. A sense of foreboding washed over him, and he glanced at Thoria, whose face was as expressionless as Impa’s. They approached the throne and bowed.

“Ser Link,” Zelda said, as Impa arrived at her side. “Please, come here.”

Link obeyed, looking once more to Thoria, noting the set of her shoulders, the way she rested her weight on the balls of her feet. To an outsider, she appeared as calm as still water. To Link, she looked as nervous as he felt.

He stood next to Impa as Zelda indicated, leaving Thoria alone, standing before the steps that led to the throne. Zelda sucked in her breath.

“Lady Thoria, you stand accused of undisclosed sorcery and unlawful magic use in the Kingdom of Hyrule, of plotting the destruction of the kingdom, and partnership with dark magics.” Zelda announced. “In addition to this, you stand accused of the murder of a member of my court, the Mage of Shadows.”

Link felt the bottom drop out of his stomach as Thoria took a step back, her eyes widening as her jaw dropped.

“How do you plead?” Zelda asked, her voice sweet and laced with venom.

“Princess!” Link made to move to her side, but Impa held out a hand. “That simply isn’t true!”

Thoria was staring, open mouthed at the princess. “I… I haven’t used magic, your Highness,” she said.

“Liar!” came a shrill voice.

Navi fluttered out from beneath Zelda’s hair, her bright blue glow pulsating with emotion. Link stared. Navi had been in the fae realm for months, yet suddenly, here she was with Zelda? Why hadn’t she come to him?

“You trapped me in a bottle!” Navi squealed. “And I saw you! I saw you using magic! Levitating things and flying and making things appear!”

Link stared at the fairy, too furious to feel any joy at her return.

“You go too far,” he snapped. “You have no proof of any of this!” he turned to Zelda. “Princess, I can vouch for her myself, Thoria has never used magic, she can’t, she means no harm to anyone!”

“Silence,” Zelda said. Link shook his head, but kept his mouth shut. He looked to Thoria again. She looked very small, her weight on her back foot, leaning as far from the throne as she could without openly fleeing. Her eyes flicked between him and the princess, her gaze pleading.

“I haven’t done anything,” she said. “I-“

“SILENCE!” Zelda screeched, leaning forward in her throne, spittle flying from her lips. Link recoiled. She looked quite demented. But then she smiled, a terrible smile that would be better placed on the King of Evil himself.

“I agree with Ser Link somewhat,” she said, her voice an almost playful calm. “Navi’s word alone is little proof. However,” she produced a thin scroll and unfurled it. “I have deciphered more of the prophecy. The prophecy that concerns you, Lady Thoria.”

Thoria said nothing. Her eyes flicked to Link again.

“Zelda,” he whispered. “This is insanity. Thoria hasn’t-“

“I am your princess,” Zelda said, in a voice of icy calm. “And you will address me as such, Ser.” She shook out the scroll and read.

“ _Dark times shall befall Hyrule when a dark stranger comes. They will have power beyond reckoning, and the wisest minds will fall prey to dangers of their own making. The homes of the innocent will light in the fires of fury and courage will kneel before a broken heart. Beware the betrayal, the spirit is loyal to a false god_.”

The princess glanced at Link as the nobles above muttered, their voices buzzing like bees from a disturbed nest. He knew it as well as she did, the prophecy could mean anyone. Not Thoria. It couldn’t be Thoria. Zelda gave a smug smile, a satisfied turning of the lips reserved for those victorious in battle.

“ _The stranger shall appear when the sky is torn,”_ Zelda continued, her eyes on the woman before her. _“She will be dark of hair and green of eye, and she will hide her magic. She will enslave the Chosen Hero through wicked wiles and dark powers. Be wary of she, she who will bring the kingdom to its knees._ ”

“Impossible,” Link said, aghast. “That’s too specific for a prophecy!”

“Art thou calling me a liar, Ser?” Zelda asked, turning to him. Link flinched. Her eyes were wide, her smile stretched so far it seemed painful. A muscle in her cheek twitched. “Perhaps, you are covering for this woman, and you are culpable as well?”

“I’m covering for nothing,” Link said. His fear for his fiancée loosened his tongue. “Perhaps you are a liar,” he growled, drawing gasps from the balcony above. “Thoria’s innocent.”

Zelda pursed her lips, the smile still on her face. “You speak too freely, Ser Link. Impa.”

Link felt the aide stiffen beside him.

“Bring me his head.”

Link leapt away, but he wasn’t fast enough. Impa seized his arm in an iron grip, her other hand conjuring a lethal stiletto blade. Unarmed, Link was powerless against her. Even with his sword, he knew he was little match for the Sheikah. His mind whirled, and he tried to push her away as the dagger came down, carving a damning path through the air to his throat. He barely had time to cry out…

There was a flash of green light and a crash of thunder, and an explosion rocked the room. An unseen force pushed Link away from Impa, sending him tumbling down the steps as the nobles above cried out in fear. Impa collided with the illusion wall and crumpled in a heap, sending Zelda rocketing to her feet. Her expression was not one of horror or shock, but of vindication, of joy, and of insanity.

“ _Aha!_ ” she screamed, pointing a damning finger. “I knew it!”

Link propped himself up on his elbow, following Zelda’s pointing, and his whole body went cold.

Thoria was standing in the middle of the chamber, one hand thrust forward. Her eyes were glowing, and around her hand was a crackle of energy.

 _Magic_.

It was true.

“Thoria…” Link whispered. “ _No_ …”

Thoria was trembling. She lowered her hand as her eyes returned to normal, casting a fearful gaze around the chamber.

“I… I didn’t know I could…”

“LIAR!” Zelda screamed again.

Thoria looked to Link. She was more afraid than he had ever seen her, but he could not find the strength to lift himself from the ground as his world shattered around him.

She had magic. She had hidden it from him. She had lied. The prophecy was true. The kingdom would fall, and he had failed to stop it. Thoria had magic. Thoria was a sorceress.

She had lied.

“Guards!” Zelda cried, seemingly from a long way off. “Arrest her!”

Thoria took half a step towards him, reaching out. He could do nothing but stare. The hollowness inside him grew as he looked upon her, the woman he thought he knew. The guards lowered their spears and advanced, closing in.

“I’m sorry,” she said. And she leapt into the air, high, high above the guards, almost touching the vaulted ceiling. Above, the nobility gasped as she came level with them, and she soared over the ring of soldiers. She landed lightly, and sprinted for the doors, which crashed open before her.

And she was gone.

The guards scrambled, charging after her in a great clanging of metal and clamouring voices. As the sound echoed through the castle, growing fainter, Zelda rose from her throne and swept her hair back.

“Impa,” she said. “Are you injured?”

“Some bruising, perhaps,” Impa replied. “Far less than I thought I would be. It went as planned, Zelda. Congratulations.”

“Yes, thank you, you played your part well,” Zelda said. She descended the steps, coming to where Link was still lying, dumbstruck, on the floor. As she approached, he levered himself to kneel, staring at the door.

“Oh, Link,” Zelda said, her voice soft and full of pride. “This must be hard for you. To have missed such evil that was under your very nose. But do not worry. My soldiers will catch her soon enough.”

Link stared at the floor, the marble polished and pristine. A faint, shadowed reflection lay within the marble, its expression hidden from him. It wasn’t true. It _couldn’t_ be true. Thoria wasn’t evil. She wasn’t. She couldn’t be. It was a dream. A bad dream. He would wake up any moment now, abed, with Thoria next to him, her smile lighting up the room more brightly than the sun.

She had lied.

He felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Of course, I do not blame you for any of this,” Zelda said, stroking his shoulder. “You were obviously bewitched. The spell will be broken once we have her. Do not worry.”

His mind was whirling, full of a thousand screaming voices. His body was numb, and in his chest was a great, dark hole. He felt lost, adrift on a sea of confusion and betrayal. He loved her. Why had she lied? Was it really possible? Was it really true? How could she deceive him like this? Zelda’s hand still caressed his shoulder.

“Get off me,” he said, his voice low.

He felt the princess balk. “What did you say?”

“GET OFF ME!” Link roared, turning. His teeth were bared, his eyes ferocious. Zelda jumped back as Impa drew her blades. Link screwed up his face and turned away, rising heavily to his feet. He stalked from the throne room, not caring that his actions were treasonous, not caring that Zelda really could have his head for it. All that mattered was Thoria. She would be running, or hiding. He had to find her before the soldiers did. Find her and…

He stumbled in the corridor, his breath catching. He caught the wall and clung on for support. She had lied. She had magic. _The prophecy was true_. But he had to find her. She was in danger. He had to save her. He had to know _why_.

He ran up the stairs, heading for her rooms, to find them torn apart, ransacked by the soldiers looking for her. He sifted through the debris, pulling aside the drapes on the smashed bedframe, pushing apart the wood of the destroyed dresser. A white, satin shirt lay amongst the chaos. It was her favourite thing to sleep in. Link picked it up and stowed it inside his tunic.

He ran to the Library, knowing she would not be there. He hunted high and low, appearing to join the effort as soldiers turned the castle upside down.

But they did not find her.

As the sun began to lower, Link found himself at their tapestry, hiding their secret alcove. He swallowed, looked over his shoulder, and raised a trembling hand to the fabric. She had to be here. Of all the places in the castle, this was where he should have looked first. How surprised she would be. Would she be happy to see him? He had proposed to her barely half a day ago, though it seemed like just minutes, and a whole lifetime all at once. She had wanted to talk about it here.

Link pulled the tapestry aside and slipped behind it in one fluid motion, a smile spreading across his face, hoping against hope that he was right, and that she would be there, cross legged on the floor. She would shake her head and grin and say; “you took your time.”

The alcove was empty, save for the head of a purple heliotrope, resting on the window sill.

Link stumbled forward, cupping the tiny flowers in his hands. She was gone. She was truly gone. He slid down the cold stone wall and fell to his side, curling up in a ball. Clutching the flowers in the last light of day, he began to weep.


	99. 99 - Link

Link stood on his balcony, staring out over the grounds. The night air was cold on his face, and he shivered, but he did not go inside for a cloak. He needed the cold. He needed to be numb. The emptiness inside him had condensed into a hot ball of grief and rage that bubbled below the surface, and threatened to spill over.

He wanted to scream and shout and cry at the unfairness of it all. _Why_ couldn’t they have just left well enough alone? _Why_ wasn’t he allowed to carry on living his blissful lie? _Why_ was his happiness stolen from him at every turn? If they had left together, then surely, _surely_ the prophecy would not come to pass.

He knew it had been too good to be true. Of course someone as perfect as Thoria was hiding a great secret. _Of course_ he would fall in love with the one woman who was to bring destruction to the kingdom. It was his curse. He was a slave to the whims of the goddesses, to rise eternal to fight against great evil. What a cruel joke it was to have him love her.

It was like having affection for Ganondorf. It was like being attracted to a Bulblin. It was… it was like…

Link gripped the railing and lowered his head, tears pricking the backs of his eyes once again. It was like being in love with the perfect woman. He could not lie to himself. She was not evil. He could not bring himself to believe it.

But the Mage of Shadows had been missing for the better part of half of a year. He was Hyrule’s most powerful magic user, aside from Zelda herself. The only way he could have been killed would have been by another, powerful sorcerer.

Or sorceress.

Link put his head in his hands. No matter how much he desired the truth to be different, he could not change reality. The woman he loved had lied, had hidden powerful magic, and had murdered. Who else had she killed? What other poor fool had discovered her secret and been slain? Even Navi had been imprisoned when she discovered Thoria’s magic. What would have happened to him if he had found out? He sighed, and raised his head to gaze out over the land once more.

A knock came at his door. Link did not move. He had to stay here, watching, just in case she came back. He heard the door open, hushing over the carpet. He heard soft, dainty footsteps and knew the princess had arrived.

Still he did not turn.

“Link,” Zelda said, laying a hand on his arm. “Are you well?”

“Yes, your Highness,” he replied, his voice monotone.

“I worry for you,” she said, standing close. “It must have come as a dreadful shock.”

Link did not reply.

“Are you angry with me for ordering Impa to kill you? Please know, she never would have. It was all a ruse, to tempt the witch’s magic out. And it worked. Now we know.”

“Now we know,” Link echoed.

“Will you not come inside?” Zelda tugged his sleeve. “Impa has brought your weapons back. It is too cold out here. You will become ill.”

“I’m watching,” Link said. “To see if she comes back.”

Zelda nodded. “That is good. You will alert us, I am sure.” She stepped in again, pressing her body as close to his as she could. She took his hand and placed it on her waist. Link let his arm fall back to his side, and did not look away from the grounds.

“You will join the effort to find her tomorrow,” Zelda said. “You knew her best, and therefore will know where she is likely to hide. We will find her, my love. Even if we have to tear the kingdom apart, we will find her, and she will pay for her crimes.”

“What crimes?” Link asked, turning his head to look at the princess. She blinked.

“Magic usage,” she said. “Unknown to us and used for an evil purpose. The prophecy…” She trailed off. “It does not matter. I am the princess, I am in charge. She will pay for what she has done to you, most of all. Your… affection, for this sorceress is clearly nothing more than her magic, a glamour, a bewitchment. I forgive you your wrongdoing, your secretiveness.”

Link stared. “You knew?”

“I was told,” Zelda said. Her eyes flashed, but she continued stroking his arm. “You could not hide forever. But I know it was not your fault. I know you will help me bring her to justice.”

Link set his jaw. “As you command.”

“So, you will look for her?”

“As you command.”

Zelda waited, her hands on his arm, her face tilted up to him. Link did not look down. The small, nasty voice in the back of his mind teased him, making fun of when he was a teenager and full of the imaginings of youth, first coming upon the princess in his lupine form, astounded by the beauty and grace of the imprisoned royalty. What would the teenage Link say if his older self told him that yes, one day, he would be loved by the very same princess. That he had the chance to be the King of Hyrule. How his younger self would laugh at him when he said that now, the very same thought repulsed him.

“Perhaps a small celebration is in order,” she said, her voice soft. “Praising our victory in uncovering such evil. And another, larger, once she is found and burned for her crimes.”

Link clenched his fists. “I have no love of pomp and ceremony, your Highness. I never have.”

Zelda gazed up at him, and finally let go.

“You will feel better,” she said. “Her curse will not last much longer. But Ser Link, your duty is to me.”

Link gave a stiff nod. “As you command.”

He heard her footsteps retreat, and the door clicked shut. He fought off a shiver. He would not see Thoria tonight. He knew in his heart that she was gone. She was clever. She would know that she would need to run and never look back. She might even be in another country by now.

And Zelda had known about them. She had been told. But by who? Who had found out? Who had betrayed them and shattered his world? He glared across the black landscape. He knew in his bones that Zelda had made up the second half of the prophecy. It made too much sense, it was too convenient, too direct. If she had found out about them, then of course she would have tried to have Thoria imprisoned. He had known her past incarnations to do worse, and even in this life, Zelda had tried to have Thoria killed, by his own, unwilling hand, no less! It did not surprise him that she had lied to slander the woman he loved. If she had stayed, they could have contested it, spoken out, argued and...

And what? Nothing. The prophecy had been true anyway. What did it matter that Zelda had fabricated half of it? Thoria had still lied. And left him.

He heard a light tinkling of wings and squeezed his eyes shut. _Gods above, not now…_

“So,” Navi said, settling on his shoulder and grasping his earring. “I believe you owe me an apology.”

“For what?” Link growled.

“I was right, and you ignored me, over and over,” the fairy said, smugness radiating from her. “That bitch had magic, and is clearly evil. Why else did she flee? Only the guilty run, after all.”

Link closed his eyes.

“Look on the bright side,” Navi continued. “At least things can go back to the way they were. You and me, together, like we’re supposed to be, without that vile whore taking up all of your time.”

Link took a steadying breath.

“And after what she did to me,” Navi said. “Trapping me in a bottle and all, for months? Well. I’m going to need some serious love and attention to make up for you failing to save me, like you should have done.”

Link scrunched up his face. “Navi…”

“Oh, I understand, of course,” she said. “You were under a spell. I saw you, you know, with her, when I was trapped in the bottle. Of course I had to tell Zelda! You poor thing. Who knows what else she would have done to you, your purity, your innocence, if I hadn’t said anything?”

Link opened his eyes.

“ _You_ told Zelda about us?”

Navi shrugged. “It was the right thing to do. You sneaking around with an evil sorceress! Putting the kingdom in danger? It was just ridiculous.” She shook her head. “You never listened to me, so of course I had to tell her!”

“You…” Link swatted her off his shoulder. “ _You_ did this!”

Navi fluttered in the air, an affronted look on her face. “I did it for you!” she squeaked. “You were under a spell!”

“I _loved_ her.” Link said. “Why couldn’t you be happy for me?”

“Because it wasn’t real!” Navi squealed. “It was all a spell!”

Link stared, dumfounded, at his oldest friend. She hovered before him, indignant, her arms folded.

“Now,” she said. “Let us just forget all this mess. The sorceress will be found, the spell will be broken, and you will see just how stupid you’re being.” She snorted. “ _Love_. I’ll tell you, she never loved you back, Link. No one loves you like me and Zelda do.”

Link shook his head, staring. “You don’t. Neither of you do. You just use me for your own wants.”

Navi sneered. “That’s her magic talking.”

Link clenched his fists, staring at the friend he thought he knew. He drew himself up, a snarl forming on his lips.

“You caused this. Right from the start, your jealousy and pettiness got in the way.” He felt his body begin to tingle. A doubt bubbled to the surface, but he shoved it away. He had to do this. He pointed a finger at the fairy. “ _You_ destroyed us. You have _never_ cared about anything other than your own, spiteful self!”

“Listen to you!” Navi spat. “You don’t know the first thing! _I_ was the one looking out for you, _I_ was the one who was there when you needed a friend! _I_ was the one who was with you every day, through your adventures, through time! _I_ was the one who found you again, after all these years! _I_ was the one who made you come in your sleep, but you were dreaming about that bitch instead! Talk about ungrateful!”

Link took a horrified step back. “You did _what_?”

“I…” Navi faltered, guilt flashing over her face. “I… I… you enjoyed it! You liked it! Don’t tell me you didn’t!”

Link felt his stomach turn over, and bile rose in his throat. He remembered the dream. The dream had been so good because _Thoria_ was in it. Now tainted. It was his shadow all over again. Attacked while he was vulnerable, powerless to stop it. He felt the darkness rush into his mind, gathering at the corners of his vision and spreading, until all he could see was the little, blue fairy, squeaking angrily that she was right, that her actions were just, and if he had only _listened_ …

He remembered his journey to Ordon. How it was Navi who convinced him to go. How it was Navi who kept quiet as he alone was punished. How it was her who had snuck and hidden and sniped all through his recent adventures of this lifetime. And even before, how it was her who doubted and irritated and got in the way of his past self, manipulating and gaslightng, before she left him without a second’s thought. How it was her ego that dictated their moods, how he would always scramble to keep her happy. Her threats, her meddling, her verbal abuse. Her inability to accept fault with her actions. How it was her who hated Thoria right from the start, who poisoned Zelda’s mind against her. How it was her who had told Zelda about he and Thoria. How it was her that had finally driven her away.

“I banish you,” Link said, quietly. Navi stopped mid tirade.

“What?”

“ _I banish you_ ,” he repeated, his voice rumbling like a storm. “I banish you to the fae realm. You are never to return to my side, in this life, or the next, or the next. You are never to return to Hyrule. I _never_ want you near me again.”

“No!” Navi squealed, flying to him and clutching his glove. “No, don’t!”

Link curled his lip. “I no longer know you,” he said. “You have hurt me for the last time.”

A portal opened in the air, a swirling, black and purple gate to the fae realm. Navi shrieked, her hair and dress lifting as the portal exerted its pull on her.

“Link, no! Don’t do this!”

He looked on dispassionately as Navi’s grip began to loosen on his glove.

“ _NO!_ ” She squealed. “I love you! I love you more than Zelda, more than that whore bitch sorceress! Don’t do this! Make it stop! Link!”

Soon, she was just holding on by her fingertips.

“ _LINK!_ ” she shrieked.

And then she let go. She was pulled into the portal with a wail, and it closed without a sound, as if it had never existed.

Link took a steadying breath and stumbled back into his room, closing the balcony doors behind him. Now he had no one. Navi was gone. Midna was gone. The Zelda he once knew was gone. Thoria was gone.

He tucked himself into a corner of his room, sinking down until he was sitting, and pulled Thoria’s shirt out from his tunic. It still smelled of her. He held it to his cheek and curled up on the floor. Before he knew it, he was asleep.

Nightmares plagued him. He saw the monsters he had fought. Thousands of them, surrounding him in a never ending ring. Bokoblins and Moblins and Lizalfos and Darknuts and Stalfos and Poes and dragons and Redeads and Gibdos and everything else besides. They gibbered and howled, waving rusty swords and spears and knives. Beneath a red and boiling sky, he was naked and unarmed. He saw his shadow above, grown to the size of the castle, laughing as he threw down fire upon him. Link dodged and flailed, tried to run, and was pushed back by the ring of screeching monsters. He fell, burning, his skin sloughing off in sheets until he was nothing but a skeleton. He saw his face reflected in a pool of water, hovering above him. His Shade looked back, and opened his mouth in a horrified scream, a scream that came from his own mouth, for he was looking at his destiny.

“ _Shh. It’s alright_.” A soft voice cut through the clamour. The hollering monsters were muffled. He looked up to see Thoria, smiling, above him. “ _It’s alright_ ,” she said again, brushing his face, tenderly, her palm cool and soothing. “ _It’s going to be okay_.”

Link reached for her as she faded, grasping at her hands, seeing his fingers slide through as though she was no more than spirit. The monsters closed in, needling him with their swords and spears and sharpened sticks, throwing stones, burning him with torches, pulling at his hair, wrapping their hands around his throat…

Link jerked awake, his face wet with tears. He still held Thoria’s shirt in an iron grip. He clutched it close, burying his face, until he could breathe without sobbing.

Eventually, he sat up, and a blanket slid off his shoulders. He had not had one when he had fallen asleep.

Alert, Link rose, tucking Thoria’s shirt away, wiping his face. He peered through the darkness at his room, seeing no one. He sighed. He must have done it himself. It would not have been the first time he sleepwalked. He shook his head. He knew he would never sleep peacefully again.

He approached his bed, and saw a bouquet of flowers on his pillow.

For a moment, he did not dare to breathe, should he shatter the illusion. But when his lungs began to protest and he took in the cool night air, the flowers did not disappear. Link fumbled the lamp at his bedside, trying to light it as his fingers shook. As the soft, yellow light grew, he gently picked up the bouquet and turned it over in his hands.

There were only four flowers, tied together with a simple string. There was a purple hyacinth, an oleander, an orange blossom and a red tulip. Thoria’s secret language of flowers.

He did not understand.


	100. 100 - Link

The dawn saw Link standing before the throne with five hundred soldiers crowded into the chamber. Some were seasoned, old hands, but most were new and green, young and eager for blood. Zelda stood before them in her battle dress, a long, slim sword in her hand. All eyes were upon her, and there was barley a sound. Link’s heart was loud in his ears, his own private drum to which he marched. He kept his eyes on the throne. He did not look at the princess.

“You will find the sorceress known as Thoria,” she said, her voice carrying in the silence. “You will find her and take her, _alive_. She must answer for her crimes. You may find it necessary to injure her,” she paused, and her eyes sought Link’s in the crowd. He did not look back. “And you may do so, provided she is brought to me alive.

“Search the castle, search the grounds. Search Castle Town and beyond. You will find her, and you will not cease until she is brought before me.”

She waved her sword, which seemed too heavy for her, and with a clanking, the assembled soldiers began to file out. It took almost half an hour to get the tightly packed men out of the throne room. Link allowed himself to be buffeted along, his tunic the only colour in a sea of silver and grey.

As they left the throne room, the Captain of the Guard began calling orders, separating the soldiers into squadrons, assigning them different parts of the castle and grounds. As the soldiers peeled away, their sabatons clanking on the marble floor, Link and the captain were left alone.

“Ser Link,” the captain greeted him.

“Marco,” Link replied. His voice was hollow.

“How are you?” Captain Marco asked.

“Fine,” Link replied.

Captain Marco shook his head. “We all know she was your friend, Link. I can’t imagine what it’s like to be betrayed like that.”

Link nodded, but did not speak. Captain Marco shuffled his feet.

“You technically outrank me, Ser,” he said. “But I have my orders from the crown. Zelda wants you to take your own route. You knew Lady Th- the sorceress, best, Ser. Tomorrow, you join with one of the squadrons if you don’t find her, unless Zelda tells you otherwise. Help us, Link. The sooner we find her, the better.”

Link nodded again, and moved away, leaving Captain Marco alone in the hall.

He made a beeline for Thoria’s chambers, hoping to find something, anything that might lead him to her. Her rooms were still a terrible mess. Her desk had been ransacked, with papers and parchment strewn across the floor and rifled through. The bed and drawers had been smashed, the mirror shattered into a thousand pieces. The glass crunched under his feet as he picked his way through the debris.

He lifted the corners of parchment, seeing her carefully written notes on the flora and fauna of Hyrule, sketches of the different races and notes on their culture. She had underlined the traditional Zora greeting three times, and circled Goron honorifics. There was a four page document, tied together, written in tiny, neat letters about the courtly niceties one was to observe, and how to address nobles of differing levels. How to walk, how to bow and to whom, how many steps to take away from the throne before one could turn their back.

A drop of water hit the parchment. She had tried so hard.

Sniffling, Link shifted through the rest of her paperwork, but there was nothing that pointed to where she may have gone.

Following a hunch, Link approached the bed, the mattress flipped on its side. The pillows had been torn apart, and feathers were scattered across the room. He drew his knife and ran his hands along the edges of the mattress, pushing it on its back when nothing was forthcoming on the available sides.

Finally, he found it. The slightest irregularity, almost invisible to the eye. A slit in the fabric, sewn up with exquisite care. Link angled his knife and split the fabric again, seeing far more threads come undone than he expected. Thoria must have opened and sealed this a dozen times or more.

A small book fell out. Link swept it from the ground and sank onto the mattress amidst the tatters of her room. With trembling fingers, he opened it, and sighed.

It was written in Ancient Hylian. Her lettering was exquisite, but it was illegible to him. Only Zelda and a few scholars knew how to decipher it, and there was no way on this green earth that Link was going to let the princess anywhere near it until he knew what it said.

Rising, he tucked the book away and hurried out, heading for the exit. All through the castle came the sounds of searching. Curtains were pulled aside, beds were overturned, decorative suits of armour thrown to the ground. Link paid them no mind.

The castle grounds told the same tale. Pockets of guards patrolled, thrusting their spears into bushes, firing arrows into trees, peering behind bridges and statues. Link set his jaw. The green soldier’s faces were eager and full of purpose. Should they find her, she may not survive. He must get to her first. If they found her, she would be hauled before Zelda, and he would not see her. He would never know why she lied to him.

Had she even really loved him? Was it all a trick, like Navi had said? Had she just been using him to get information? With the Hero of Twilight on her side, by her side, and in her bed, she was safe. She knew how to fight because of him. She knew how to survive in the wild because of him. She knew the laws and lands of Hyrule because of him.

Had he been wrong? Was the kingdom to fall into ruin because of his blindness?

Link reached Castle Town to find the streets almost empty. Soldiers patrolled here as well, through fewer in number. In the windows, curtains twitched, nervous Hylians peeping out at the commotion. Link hugged the walls, head down, concentrating on his feet. His tunic was a beacon, his hat a siren, and he felt the eyes follow him until he slipped down the alley next to Shad’s bookshop. When he was certain no one could see him, he leapt into the air and swung himself over the brick wall that separated the alley from Shad’s little back garden.

The garden appeared for all the world to be organised chaos, plants spilling over the flowerbeds with no pattern, as though Shad had flung handfuls of seeds at the ground and hoped for the best. The short, cracked stone path was mossy and slick, leading from his back door to a shallow pond at the back of the garden, and Link almost lost his footing as he made his way to the scholar’s door and knocked sharply.

There was a flurry of movement, and the door was opened to reveal Shad himself, his glasses balanced on the end of his nose.

“Link, old boy!” Shad said. “I was not expecting you, what a pleasant surprise!”

“I’m sorry to come here unannounced,” Link said. “But I need your help.”

“Of course, of course! Do come in.” Shad stood aside as Link stepped through the door, taking in the kitchen with a quick sweep of his eyes. It was as cluttered and messy as the garden, and he knew the rooms beyond were the same, with piles of unsteady books towering to the ceiling, and bundles of scrolls perched precariously on every available surface. The musty scent of old parchment and leather assailed him, and he knew that Thoria would find this place magical.

“Through here,” Shad said, leading the way. “Make yourself comfortable, old boy, and I’ll fetch us a spot of tea. Do mind the books now!”

Link almost smiled. The first time he had visited the little bookshop, he had bumped into one of the stacks, causing an avalanche of books that had knocked into another stack, and another and another, until he was buried in a sea of paper and leather up to his chest. It had taken him and Shad almost three days to sort out the mess.

He found the sofa hidden behind an impressive pile of anthologies, and eased himself down onto a fluffy, grey cushion. He leapt up with a yelp as Shad’s cat yowled and clawed at him, before flouncing off with a shake of her tail.

Shad appeared soon after, carrying two cups of steaming tea.

“Now, old boy, what can I assist you with?” Shad asked, placing the cups on the low table and turning to him, blinking owlishly behind his glasses.

“This,” Link said, producing Thoria’s book. “It’s written in Ancient Hylian, and I need to know what it says.”

“Ah, marvellous! Was this found during your adventures?” Shad took the book reverently and raised it to his nose. “Ah, no, this is a new book! A lady’s book, if I am not mistaken… what a lovely perfume she wore!”

“She never wore perfume,” Link said, softly. Shad blinked, and understanding crossed his face.

“Ah, this is your friend, Lady Thoria? I do so hope I can meet her again, what a delightful woman…”

“I knew you would like her,” Link said. “She read about as much as you do.”

“And she could write in Ancient Hylian,” Shad said wondrously, gazing down at the book as he opened it to the first page. “Such neat letters! I simply must have her over for tea.”

Link’s breath hitched in his throat, and he looked away.

“Oh,” Shad said, softly. “I’m sorry, old boy. She’s…?”

“Missing,” Link said. “I don’t want to get into it now. But I think this might tell me where she is.”

Shad nodded, and bent his head to the book. He frowned and traced the letters with his finger, before reaching down the side of the sofa and pulling out a bilingual dictionary.

“It is a diary,” Shad said. “Going back to the beginning of the summer.”

Link frowned. “Thoria couldn’t read Ancient Hylian then.”

Shad shrugged. “It’s possible she copied an old diary into this one, translating it,” he said. “I myself have written… sensitive documents in this tongue, and also the Sky language, to keep them private. I would do the same with a diary.”

“What does it say?” Link asked.

“It describes how she has awoken in a strange land,” Shad said. “And has met with a young Knight called Link.” He smiled. “Would you like the whole thing translated?”

“Ideally,” Link said. “But I fear I won’t have the time.” Over the silence that followed, the clanking of metal footsteps sounded outside. Shad nodded.

“I see. Alright, old boy, I’ll see if anything jumps out at me. Sit tight.”

Link leaned back into the sofa and drank his tea as Shad rifled through the pages, running his finger along each neatly written sentence. Occasionally, he would make a comment, mentioning how Thoria talked of her training with him, made notes on recipes she had encountered, her frustration at her lack of memory.

“She talks of you often,” Shad said. “You are mentioned on nearly every page.”

Link stared at the book. “What does she say?”

“Nothing much,” the scholar replied, his cheeks going a little pink. “She just mentions you. ‘Link and I did this,’ or ‘Link took me to see that,’ and suchlike. It’s all rather… clinical.”

Link nodded. She felt nothing for him. The wound in his heart seared. He had loved her for nothing.

“Is there anything about a favourite place of hers?” he asked. “Somewhere she might go to in a time of need?”

Shad shook his head. “Nothing like that, I’m afraid.”

Glumly, Link watched Shad flick through the rest of the book, until he neared the end, and a series of careful sketches appeared. Link sat up.

“Those drawings,” he said. “What are they?”

“Flowers, dear boy,” Shad said. “Lots of them. It seems she assigned a meaning to each one.”

“Tell me,” Link said, urgently. “Purple hyacinth, oleander, orange blossom and red tulip. What do they mean?”

Shad raised his eyebrows, but bent his head back to the book, searching.

“Ah, here,” he said. “Hyacinth, white… pink… purple. According to this, it means ‘to beg for forgiveness.’”

Link closed his eyes for a moment. Of course she would want forgiveness. “The others?”

“Oleander…” Shad searched through the drawings. “It is a warning, a warning to be cautious.”

Link’s skin prickled. “What of?”

“It doesn’t say, old boy. Now… orange blossom is a proclamation of innocence. Whether that is youthful or childlike innocence, or innocence of a crime, I do not know.”

Link nodded. Realisation was dawning. “And red tulips?”

“Red specifically?” Shad searched once more, and tapped the book twice. “A red tulip signifies an eternal, undying love.” He closed the book and handed it back. “Why do you ask?”

Link swallowed past the lump in his throat. “No reason. Thank you for your help, Shad.”

“Any time, old boy.” The scholar rose as Link got to his feet. “Anything else I can assist with, do let me know.”

“Of course.”

“And don’t leave it so long, I’ll always have the kettle on for old friends!”

Link forced a smile. His heart was beating painfully loud, and he needed air. He wound through the stacks of books and into the back garden, where he hopped the wall once more. In the alley, he ducked behind a pile of crates and crouched down, his head in his hands.

Purple hyacinth, oleander, orange blossom and red tulip. He could almost hear her voice.

_I am so sorry. Please, forgive me. I’m innocent. I didn’t do what they said. I’m not a bad person. I’ve never hurt anyone. Please, be careful. You’re in danger because you’re close to me. Keep yourself safe. I love you._

_I love you._


	101. 101 - Zelda

“We have not found her yet, you Highness. We will keep looking.”

“You will,” Zelda said. She was seated on one of her sofas, her hands folded in her lap, one ankle tucked neatly behind the other. Captain Marco stood before her in her reception room, his helmet held stiffly under his arm. Days had passed with no news, and Zelda was wild with impatience. But she did not show it, no, for she was a princess, and above such things. “It is imperative that we capture this sorceress. There is no telling the damage she will do if she remains free.”

“As you command,” Captain Marco said. “We have combed every inch of the castle and its grounds, and we will continue to do so. My men are currently searching Castle Town, and word has been sent to the neighbouring provinces.”

“Good, good,” Zelda said, steepling her fingers together. “Ensure morale is kept high, Captain. We cannot afford for anything to slip us by.”

“Of course, your Highness.”

“Tell your men, that whomsoever finds her will be awarded a handsome sum of rupees,” she said. If nothing else, the promise of wealth would make the soldiers work all the harder to find the wretched cunt.

“I will, your Highness.” Even Captain Marco’s eyes seemed to glint at the thought.

“You may go,” Zelda said, dismissing the Captain with a wave. She leaned back as he left, and Impa appeared from the shadows.

“Is all well?” she asked, approaching. “You have not slept.”

“Nor will I,” Zelda said. “Until she is found.” She smiled. “I was right, Impa. I knew she would bring evil to Hyrule. The prophecies I decipher are never wrong.”

Impa said nothing.

“What of your Sheikah?” Zelda asked. “Have they found anything?”

Impa shook her head. “Nothing. But they will. Someone will, I’m sure of it.”

“As am I.” Zelda stretched, rubbing the back of her neck. Her whole body still tingled, thrumming with her own might as princess. “Send for Ser Link. I am concerned for him. He is still suffering from her spell.”

Impa inclined her head and left, the door closing with a soft click.

No sooner had she gone, Zelda was on her feet and hurrying to her bedchamber. She picked up her brush and quickly undid the intricate plaits of her hair, tugging her brush through the strands as they came undone. The plaits had left her normally smooth hair with a slight curl to it, and Zelda found she rather liked the look. She picked up her perfume and squirted it liberally on her throat, before dabbing rouge on her cheeks, and colouring her lips with coral pink. She grimaced at her reflection. Impa made it look easy, but the colours stood out garishly against her pale skin. No matter.

She fussed with her dress. It was an elegant thing of peach silk, cuffed and embroidered with the utmost care. Was it too fancy? Was it not fancy enough? How would she break through the curse upon her Hero?

Zelda sighed. Fretting about her appearance would serve no purpose. She returned to her reception room and began to pace, the minutes crawling by.

After what seemed like a week, the door to her suite opened and Impa returned, Link at her shoulder. Zelda stood by her desk, one hand on the back of her chair, in what she knew to be a regal and dignified pose.

She withheld a gasp as Link entered the light. His skin was sallow, and his eyes were hollow and unseeing, as if he was looking into another world.

“Impa,” Zelda said. “Fetch us a bottle of wine and then leave us. I have matters of a personal nature to discuss with Ser Link.”

Impa gave Zelda a pointed look that she ignored. She was more interested in Link, and the flicker behind his eyes. She had caught his attention.

“Please, be seated, Ser,” Zelda said, as Impa left, shaking her head. She indicated the sofa.

“If it please your Highness, I’d rather stand,” Link said, his voice monotone. “I am restless.”

“Of course,” she replied. “Whatever makes you more comfortable.”

She left her desk and approached him. He followed her with his eyes, and made an effort to straighten his back. He lifted his chin and stared above her head, ever respectful.

“You can relax,” Zelda said, putting a hand on his arm. “You have no enemies here.”

He nodded, silently. Zelda sighed.

“I am worried about you,” she said. “I can see the toll this is taking on you. But please, be assured that we will find a way to break this curse on you.”

“I’m not cursed,” Link said, his voice soft.

“Of course you are,” Zelda said. “The Link I know would never do what you have this last year. Skipping duty, speaking out of turn, beginning a secret relationship with someone who we believed to be dangerous? Someone who was revealed to be so?”

Link said nothing.

“It does not matter,” Zelda said soothingly. “It is not your fault. I forgive you. All will be well, I promise.”

The door opened and Impa returned, carrying a bottle of fine, red wine and two goblets. She cast a severe look to the two of them, Zelda with her hand on Link’s arm, standing too close to be proper. Zelda decided she didn’t care.

“Leave us,” she said. Impa hesitated, as if she was about to speak.

“Now,” Zelda said. “I will not ask twice.”

Impa left instantly, catching Link’s eye as she went. Her expression was unreadable, but Link’s eyes were pleading.

“What is it?” Zelda asked. “Tell me what the matter is so I can make it right.”

Link sighed. “I’m fine, your Highness. I’m just tired.”

Zelda tugged his arm, pulling him towards the sofa, where she poured the wine and handed him a goblet. She had to clear her throat before Link raised his hand to take it. He held it stiffly, as though waiting for permission.

“Drink,” she commanded. Link obediently raised the cup to his lips.

“Sit,” she ordered, and he dutifully lowered himself into the nearest seat. Zelda pouted. It was the armchair.

“Now, that is better,” she said. “There is no need for any formalities. We are friends, comrades, companions, and we are sharing a drink during a troubling time. Is that not what friends do?”

Link nodded, slowly.

“Where is Navi?” she asked.

“Gone,” he replied.

“Gone where?”

“Home. The fae realm.”

“Oh,” Zelda sat back, confused. Navi had been overjoyed at the news when Zelda brought it to her. Finally, they had the proof they needed to arrest the stranger. She had revelled in it, had wanted to celebrate once the sorceress was rightfully imprisoned, and burned at the stake.

And yes, Link had been right. Zelda _had_ written the last paragraph of the prophecy herself, but he didn't need to know that. It was only repeating what she knew in her bones. With Navi’s testimony, and revelation of Link’s betrayal, it was only fitting that she write down her thoughts. Her triforce would never lead her astray. And it told her that the prophecy was true, and that the Mage of Shadows’ disappearance was down to her.

She realised she was gripping her goblet very hard, and she placed it on the table.

“Ser Link,” she said. “I wish to know what you are thinking.”

Link finally looked at her. His expression spoke of a thousand emotions, warring across his face in the span of a second, washed away in an instant by blankness as his gaze shifted away.

“I am thinking I am tired,” he said. “It has been… a stressful week.”

Zelda made a consoling noise. “Is there anything I can do?”

“No, your Highness.”

“I insist,” she said. “Some food, perhaps? I know you enjoy blackcurrant scones, I can order the cooks to make some right now.”

“I am not hungry, your Highness, but I appreciate the offer.”

“More wine?” she indicated the bottle, before noticing his goblet was still almost full.

“Perhaps you are uncomfortable,” she said, running a finger over her lips. “Allow me.”

Zelda rose and moved behind the chair. “Impa does this for me, and I find it relaxes me wonderfully,” she said. She placed her hands on Link’s shoulders and began to massage them, feeling the rough cotton of his tunic, and the hard mail beneath it. She kept her touch light, knowing that too much pressure was painful. She ran her fingers along his shoulders, her thumbs just tickling the nape of his neck.

Link sat very still, his head slightly bowed. His shoulders were rigid, and she wondered if this is what happened when one did not have an aide to rub away the tension.

“All will be well,” she said as she worked. “I can assure you. It will all be over soon. You will feel better, my dear. All you must do is tell me how I make it better.”

Link remained silent. Zelda frowned. It seemed to her the more she rubbed his shoulders, the tenser they got. The muscle was as hard as rock beneath her hands. She shivered delightedly, her mind wandering to the rest of his body, wondering if all his muscles were as solid.

“Princess,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. Zelda stopped, and leaned down, her cheek next to his.

“What is it?”

“I beg your leave. I feel I must keep searching if I… we… are to find her.”

Zelda sighed, and put her arms around him. He stiffened.

“You knew her best, my love. If anyone will find her, I think it would be you.” She turned her head and nuzzled his neck. He began to tremble. He must be enjoying it far more than she first thought! Encouraged, she kissed his neck. “I know you will bring her to me.”

Link kept his silence, but he turned his head away as she chased his cheek with her lips. She clenched her jaw, but rose. She must not push too hard. She was a princess, after all. He must be afraid of repercussion, or so awed by her advances that he did not to know what to do.

“You have my leave,” she said, graciously, as Link almost flew out of the chair. “I expect to see you every night, with a report on your progress.”

“E-every night?” Link repeated. His eyes flicked to the door behind her.

“Every night,” Zelda clarified. “Until she is found. Now, I command you to rest, I would like for you to feel better.”

Link bowed, and hurried past her, barely sparing a glance behind him as he went. Zelda sighed as the door banged closed, and almost immediately opened again, revealing Impa.

“That boy looks like he’s had the fright of a lifetime,” Impa said, her red eyes serious above her collar. “I’ve never seen him run so fast.”

“He must have had personal matters to attend to,” Zelda said. She cursed herself. How foolish of her to not realise! He could have stayed here. She would have allowed him to use her own personal facilities. If all went to plan, he would use them anyway. He may as well get used to them.

“I think he was eager to leave for other reasons,” Impa said, unbuttoning her collar and removing her cloak. Her face revealed, her mouth was set in a thin line. “Think carefully about what you are doing, Zelda. The boy is-“

“My Chosen Knight,” Zelda finished for her. “And will one day be my king. This is normal.”

“Unless you can change the law, he will not be,” Impa said. “But I know you will not be swayed. If I may make a suggestion?”

“You will, regardless of what I say.”

“Go easy on him. He has been betrayed by somebody whom he believed he lov-“

“It was a spell,” Zelda spat, striding forward. She picked up her empty goblet and flung it across the room. “He did not love her!”

“Spell or no spell, he believes he did,” Impa replied, curtly. “And he will need time to recover. Do not force him, or you will both be unhappy.”

“He will be fine once the sorceress is dead,” Zelda growled. “That is the only way to break her curse. Now clean that up, and attend to me in my bedroom.”

She spun on her heel and strode away, seething. Impa had no idea. The fool! Link was not in love, did not love the sorceress! He would love _her_ , his princess, his _queen_ once he saw how she cared for him. And if the sorceress was not found soon, she would just have to find another way to ensure her Hero loved her the same.


	102. 102 - Link

Weeks followed with no news, no update on Thoria’s whereabouts. Link firmly believed she had fled the kingdom, and with that thought, he had collapsed in a despairing heap in his room once his daily search had been concluded.

His sleep was shattered. He barely managed to scrape more than a couple of hours each night, and there was no potion, no Thoria to take away the knife-sharp edge of his torment. His nightmares were vivid and relentless, torturing him to the edge of insanity each night. Things were not helped by his daily meetings with Zelda. No matter how he tried to keep his distance, to remain aloof, yet respectful, she would approach, finding some excuse to touch him, her gaze needle sharp and just as invasive. Each visit left him feeling unclean, though she did little more than brush his arms or back and stare at him. It was the knowledge that she either did not notice or did not care about his discomfort that made him nauseous. It was the fact that he was powerless to stop it, whatever she wanted to do, that made his skin crawl.

The passing time did nothing to dull the pain he felt, to heal the raw wound over his heart at losing Thoria. No matter what Zelda said, no matter what the nobles whispered loudly enough that he could hear, no matter what, he would not, could not believe that she was evil.

But she had lied. She hadn’t trusted him enough to tell him the truth, and that knowledge hurt almost as much as her loss.

His mood fluctuated between fury, exhaustion, apathy and utter desolation. As he stared at the canopy of his bed, sleep eluding him once more, he wondered just how much more of this he could take.

To make matters worse, a letter arrived for him one morning. It was from Ilia. It was short and brutal.

_Link._

_Oka is gone. You are the only one who knew. I know you spoke of his existence. My child is gone because of you._

_Whatever pit waits beyond this life is too good for you, and you cannot meet it soon enough._

_Rot in hell._

Link crumpled the letter and slid down the wall, pressing his palms to his eyes. A small part of him felt relief that the child had gone, no doubt slain, cast into the void where its malice could hurt no one. But the larger part of him folded in on himself, churning with guilt and pain. Ilia’s son. Gone. And she blamed him. And it was his fault. Of course it was his fault. He had run from Ilia, leaving her alone and heartbroken, causing her to turn to his darker side for solace. He had told Thoria about the child. Thoria, who had magic, who had lied to him, deceived him, and fled the castle. She had killed before, or so Zelda claimed. It wasn't hard to believe she was guilty of this too. Had she done it just recently? Or had she slipped out in the dead of night while he slept, believing he was in her arms?

It was all his fault.

He had paced his rooms all day, denying himself food and rest, cursing his foolishness, sickened at the thought that the woman he loved could have gone so far as to kill a child, no matter how evil it had been.

But then... she would have done it to save him. She _knew_ what had happened to him, how horrified and afraid he had been. She had always stood by his side, supported him, protected him when she could. What a strange thing it was, to have someone looking out for him for once. Her actions may have been evil but... if her intentions were pure, did that not mean that she had done a good thing? Though there was no guarantee that his shadow's child would have grown up to be a blight on Hyrule, it was almost certain.

Confused, Link lay awake all night, staring at the canopy, longing for her comfort, arguing with himself, as the long night crawled by.

When dawn broke across the horizon, Link found himself summoned to one of the castle’s many reception rooms to receive his daily orders from the princess. She was seated when he arrived, her hair neatly brushed, her dress pristine and wrinkle free, but her eyes were bagged, her cheeks hollow. She had lost weight, it seemed, but her eyes burned with a fervour that made him flinch.

“Be seated,” she commanded, indicating the sofa opposite. Link let loose a quiet sigh of relief that she did not order him to sit next to her.

“Have you any word of the sorceress’s whereabouts?” the princess asked.

“No, your Highness,” he replied.

“Hm. As I expected. She is a most wily creature.” Zelda leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees, clasping her hands. “I have a special task for you, my most precious Knight,” she said.

Link did not reply, but he gave the princess as much attention as he could stand. Zelda smiled.

“As we know, this sorceress is a bearer of great and evil power,” she said. “I fully believe that her powers are a force to be reckoned with, and only a person of great might, wielding a weapon of equal power, would put a stop to her foul magics.”

Link remained still, watching the princess carefully, making sure not to meet her eyes. He was nothing more than a knight, and if he could remember that, perhaps she would as well. He flexed his hands, tense and on edge. How much more of this would he be forced to endure? How much longer could he stand to listen to everyone slandering the woman he had loved? He closed his eyes. _Still_ loved. His emotions flared and died within him, sparks of anger, wells of despair, a soft, bittersweet joy at the memories of her that churned around his mind in a constant dance.

Zelda shifted in her seat.

“I therefore charge you, Ser Link, to retrieve the Master Sword from her slumber,” she said, with a smile. “Once you have the Blade of Evil’s Bane in your possession, you will use it to slay the sorceress, once we have her in our grasp.”

Link went very still, then sat up straighter, allowing the words to sink in, staring at his hands, unsure if he had heard her correctly. She wanted _him_ to kill Thoria. As the princess’s words seeped into his mind, he looked up at last, meeting her eyes for the first time in weeks, his gaze flat and hard.

“No,” he said.

Zelda blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

“No,” he repeated. “I will not.”

Zelda frowned, a surprised smile creeping across her face. “Forgive me, Ser, but it almost sounded like you were disobeying a direct order from your princess. Tell me, am I mistaken?”

“You’re not,” Link said, glowering. “I won’t disturb the Sword on a fancy, and I won’t use it to kill Thoria. She’s done nothing wrong.”

“She is accused of witchcraft and unlawful magic use, of murder and of deceit against the crown, of treason!” Zelda snapped. “She fled my justice! You will do as you are ordered, Ser, and I order you now to do as I bid!”

Link lowered his head, a wry grin flashing across his face. “And what if I don’t, princess? Will you maim me? Whip me? Hang me for treason? You can’t make me do this. I’m tired of it. Thoria’s gone.” His breath caught, but he forged on. “Thoria’s gone, and she won’t come back. You’ve won. There will be no darkness to come to Hyrule. I won’t indulge your fantasy any longer.”

“You will obey me,” Zelda said, her voice soft. “Or else.”

“Or else what?” Link laughed and rose. “Hang me, then. I’m done, Zelda. I'm sick of this. I want no further part in this farce.”

Zelda rose with him. “Oh, my Link. I would never harm you, you know this. You are too dear to me.” She approached, and patted his arms, folded across his chest. He stood still, his face set.

“But I cannot have you disobey me,” the princess continued. “My Chosen Knight is to obey me and protect me, to be by my side through all. Disobedience is punishable by death.”

Link raised his chin. “So, hang me. Behead me. I won’t do this. I won't hurt her.”

Zelda smiled. “Oh, no, my love. I could not bear the thought of it. Your disobedience must be punished, yes, but you cannot bear it, for it would rend my heart. Another must bear the brunt of your defiance.” Her smile widened as Link stepped back, the weight of her words sinking in and slicing at him like daggers, as the princess turned to the tall, muscular Sheikah standing at the back of the room.

“Impa. Take the horse Epona into the yard and kill her in place of Ser Link.”

“No!” Link yelped as the Sheikah nodded once and moved for the exit. He leapt across the room, but a shove from Impa left him reeling, staggering against the wall. His head spinning, he stumbled out into the corridor, following the Sheikah’s whirling cloak as she sprinted for the stables.

His legs would not move like he wanted them to, his mind splintering. His footsteps were heavy as he staggered, trying to run, to get to Epona, to reach her in time…

He burst out into sunlight in time to hear her scream.

Impa found him after, kneeling on the cold stone, staring at nothing.

“I am sorry,” she said. “But her Highness’s word is law.”

“Epona…” Link whispered, his eyes unseeing. His vision was blurred, but just inside the stable, he could see an auburn head, glassy eyes, and something red that was spreading, steaming in the cold air. A stamping and braying clattered in the air, the sound of frightened horses kicking up their hooves at the sight.

“Obey the princess,” Impa said. “She will not harm you, Ser, but innocents will take the pain of your disobedience, if you do not do as she wishes. Please, retrieve the Sword as she has commanded, and no one else shall suffer.”

“I…” Link bowed his head, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. It couldn’t be true. Epona had been with him almost his whole life. She couldn’t be gone. Not now. Not when he had lost everyone else.

“I am sorry,” Impa said, again. “I truly am. I regret this action, but I am as bound by royal duty as you are.” She raised a hand as if to pat his shoulder, and then seemed to decide against it. “Her Highness needs guidance,” she murmured. “She is…” she sighed. “Finding and slaying the sorceress will make her well again. Please, Ser. For the good of the kingdom, do as you are bid.”

XXXXXXX

As he neared Faron Woods on foot, Link tugged his cloak tighter around himself. Surely the Sheikah knew that something was wrong with Zelda. Never before would she have hurt him so. He flinched at the memory of Epona, frolicking in the Ordonian spring, and shook his head, sealing his pain away. He could not grieve, not yet. The princess had never seemed so frazzled, yet so full of energy. It was almost as if she had found true purpose, in ending the woman he had loved. He shivered. It made sense. She had been proven right, after all this time, even if the methods used to uncover the treachery were secretive and underhand.

Regardless of Zelda’s methods, she had been right. Thoria was a sorceress, and she had hidden her magic from him. Doom would befall Hyrule because she had ensnared him, used him, deceived him, she…

Link clenched his teeth. It wasn’t true. It couldn’t be. She _must_ have loved him. Her flowers said so. And surely, _surely_ she wouldn’t have spent so long getting to know him, caring for him, being there for him when no one else was, if she didn’t love him? She could have ignored his advances, laughed at his plight, or just skated over it altogether, leaving them as nothing more than prisoner and guard.

 _Of course she would have,_ his nasty, inner voice giggled. _She used you to protect herself! You know this! Think of all the evil she’s done, just what would have happened if Zelda hadn’t caught her? It’s all your fault, your fault that she’s loose in Hyrule, free to bring destruction down on all those people who depend on you! You failed, just like you’ve failed at everything else._

“Shut up,” Link grumbled. “It’s not true. She loved me. She wanted to fit in!”

 _That’s what she told you, what she showed you,_ the voice continued, smugly. _What about all the things she didn’t show you? Think about how she snaked her way under your carefully wrought armour. And you went and told her everything, didn’t you? Laid yourself bare, just so you could get your cock wet. What do you really know about her?_

“Just shut up. She’s innocent. I know it.” Link shouldered his way through a tangle of vines.

_I’m serious! What do you know about her? She’s pretty, she’s funny, she’s clever, and she’s a sorceress. She never told you anything about her life._

“She doesn’t remember.”

_So she says. How do you know if that’s true or not? Face it, you’ve failed the kingdom because you were thinking with your cock._

“SHUT UP!” Link roared. A flock of birds took flight, chittering and flapping. His inner voice subsided with a malicious chuckle. Jaw set, Link journeyed on, traversing through the woods as the trees became thicker and the light grew dimmer.

Hours passed before he came upon the dilapidated Temple of Time. The two great, stone statues stood mute to either side of the entrance to the Sacred Grove. Link bowed his head as he passed them, and kept his head down as he entered the Grove.

The stone walls were crumbling into nothing, and the forest was rapidly reclaiming the land. Trees lined the edges of the grove, the space between them shadowed. The grass was soft and lush, and it was quiet. So quiet, and peaceful. Though the spring air was chill, a beam of warm light slanted down from between the clouds, bathing the Master Sword in sunlight.

Link took a breath. The blade was as beautiful as it was when he had first laid eyes upon it, the steel almost white and sparkling in the sun. As beautiful as it had been when he pulled it from its rest in the Temple of Time, centuries ago. As beautiful as it had been when he tempered the blade in the three sacred flames, and received the Goddess Hylia’s blessing, eons ago, when his home had been the sky.

He approached, his footsteps near silent, his heart loud in his ears. He stood before the Sword and closed his eyes. To retrieve it meant that he would be committing to killing Thoria. For evil could not touch the blade, and it would serve to destroy whatever threatened the realm. He steeled himself. No matter how much he loved her, and even if she had really loved him, she had lied to him, to protect herself.

He owed it to the kingdom, to the people, to be better. He could no longer allow his heart to rule his head. He had to be better, or they would suffer. He scrunched his face as her image appeared in his mind, smiling, happy, laughing at something. Taking his hand, her palm warm in his. He pushed the thoughts away. He had to do this.

Or did he? He opened his eyes. He could just leave. He could leave the Sword undisturbed, turn around, and walk away. What did he really have left, here in Hyrule? Navi was gone. The Zelda he thought he knew was gone. Now Epona. And Thoria…

He could find a horse and ride. Just ride. He would reach the borders of the kingdom, and he would be free. He would no longer be bound to the endless cycle of blood and violence that Hyrule demanded, no longer chained to serve a princess he no longer believed in, no longer trusted. He could be his own man, and for the first time, he could choose his own destiny.

But at what cost? The people of Hyrule would suffer in his absence. Zelda had made that perfectly clear. There was no telling what evils would befall them if he failed in his duty once again. He had failed enough.

Link took a breath and gripped the hilt. It was warm in his hand. Effortlessly, the Master Sword slid from its pedestal with a soft rasp, catching the cold sunlight as he raised it into the air. A breeze stirred the grass about his feet, blowing his hair back from his face. He let out a soft sigh. He was complete again.

He swung the sword a few times, the blade feeling more like an extension of his arm than a simple tool. He gave it a spin, and slid it into the sheath on his back. Turning his back on the pedestal, he began to walk away. But something gave him pause. A tingle from the back of his hand. A prickle that ran along his neck. Raising his hand to the sword once more, he turned.

There was a person standing in the shade of the trees. Link stood still, peering into the gloom. Who else could have possibly found this sacred grove?

The person in the shadows shifted, stepped forwards. They seemed to bring the darkness with them. Darkness that solidified into the shape of a sword and shield, into black hair, and into a tunic and cap that made a mockery of his own.

Link stumbled back, fumbling for his sword.

_No. No, it couldn’t be…_

His shadow stepped into the clearing, a wide, malicious smile on his face. His eyes glowed red.

For a moment, they faced each other across the clearing. The other held his sword and shield, standing loosely. Link stood frozen, the Master Sword halfway out of its sheath, his other hand reaching to unhook his shield. _This is a dream_ , he told himself. _Just a dream. A nightmare. It’s not real. He’s not here he’s not here he’s not-_

His shadow exploded across the clearing, moving so fast Link barely had time to draw his sword. He raised his shield as his shadow hammered his blade down, the clang of metal on metal agonisingly loud in the still air. In the same movement, he swung his shield up, battering Link’s away.

Link had time to see his eyes gleam, before he brought his shield back around in a vicious backhand strike that connected solidly with his jaw. He fell with a cry, tasting blood. He stumbled back, and his shadow barrelled into him, bearing him to the ground. The Master Sword flew from his hand.

He was heavy. Heavier than most men. He lay between his legs, pinning him to the ground. His nose brushed against his shadow’s. Link cried out and seized the front of his black tunic, pushing. He barely moved, so Link grabbed his face, his arm at his shadow’s throat, trying to throw him off.

For the first time, his shadow’s smile slipped. He snarled as Link tried to push him away, raising his fist. The blow delivered to his head left him reeling, the world spinning around him. Dizzy, he tried to raise his hands again, his heart in his throat. He could _feel_ his shadow between his legs, _feel_ the hard threat that awaited him. In a panic, he lashed out with a wordless cry. His shadow battered away his hands with ease. He hit Link again, squarely between the eyes. Link could not even cry out as he felt his nose break, the hot, stinging pain flooding through his whole body.

As he collapsed, limp, his shadow chuckled.

“It has been too long,” he said, his voice low and melodious, and laced with evil. “Far too long. Tell me. Have you seen my son?”

Link moaned and swung his fist up, missing by miles. The face of Ilia’s infant son swam into his mind, his little, red eyes pinpoints in the dark.

“I’m sure he is a handsome boy,” his shadow said. “He will be strong. I will teach him when he is old enough. His first kill shall be his mother.”

Link managed a sick grin. “It’s missing,” he growled. “Probably dead. So much for that.”

Something flickered in his shadow’s red eyes. “Then _I_ shall slay the mother, and make her pay for her failure.”

Link spat a curse. He struggled again, his muscles like water. _Ilia!_ His shadow shook his head and tucked his hips forward, drawing Link’s hips off the ground. Link fumbled behind him for his sword, his mind a storm of pain and panic.

Above him, his shadow chuckled, lowering his face again.

“You could never refuse me,” his shadow purred, pinning his wrists to the ground. “Why are you fighting? Lie back. _Enjoy_ it. You enjoyed it so much before.”

His shadow bent his head and kissed him, hard. Link recoiled, fought, and struggled, but he could not get free. Terror boiled inside him as he felt his shadow’s tongue probe the inside of his mouth, the lower lip full and pressing against his teeth.

 _No, no! Not again!_ He fought harder. His shadow laughed through the kiss, pushing deeper.

Fury broke through the horror in his mind.

Link bit, sinking his teeth into his shadow’s lip. His shadow yelped, then howled, and tried to pull away, but Link held on, growling like the wolf he was. He placed his hands on his shadow’s shoulders, pushing hard, and he shook his head as a wolf shakes its prey, and his shadow’s lip tore away from his face, leaving his teeth and half his chin bone exposed to the air. With a kick, Link sent his shadow flying.

Link rolled to his hands and knees, snarling, the lip held between his teeth as his shadow scrambled away, howling and cursing in an otherworldly voice, clutching his face. He spat the lip deliberately to the earth. As his shadow writhed, he got up, holding the Master Sword in two hands. The tip dragged along the ground as he approached his shadow, bucking in the grass.

His shadow saw him coming, and laughed. It was not his cold, cruel laugh, but a mere imitation of it.

“You think you can be rid of me?” he lisped, lowering his hands. With the lower half of his face in tatters, he seemed to grin. “I am a part of you. I _am_ you. I am your other half. I am the one who is tempted by folly, who indulges in those things that are wrong, but oh, so _good_.” He laughed again. “You would never have been with the beautiful Thoria if it wasn’t for me. Never have tasted her lips, or touched her body. I gave you the push, tempting you into bed with her.”

“Shut up,” Link growled, his breath hissing through his teeth. “Don’t you talk about her.” He hefted the Sword. His shadow locked his red eyes on his, his grin widening, black blood pouring from his ravaged face.

“Kill me, and you kill yourse-“

Link took off his head with a single, decisive swing. The head flew halfway across the Grove and rolled to a stop. The red eyes were open, and they were fixed upon him. Link drew the back of his hand across his face, wiping away blood and saliva, ignoring the agony of his broken nose. His heart, racing, began to slow as the body of his dark double twitched, jerked, and then lay still. As he watched, it seemed to deflate, tendrils of shadow curling into the air. He watched until it was all gone, leaving nothing but the memory of glaring, red eyes upon the green forest floor.


	103. 103 - Zelda

It had been three days since Link had left for the Sacred Grove. On foot, Zelda knew it would take him at least that long to reach the forest borders, let alone traverse their depths, retrieve the sword, and return once more to her side, where he belonged.

She shook her head. Her dear Knight could have borrowed one of the castle’s steeds, and a finer breed he would not find. Why he clung on to that aging mare was beyond her, a horse that was greying and near useless, so slow it could not keep up with her magnificent stallion, let alone be trusted to bear her darling into battle, should one ever arise. It was a good thing, really, that the horse was no more. She would gift him another, a finer creature, once he proved that he would obey her without question.

She had been moved by his distress, but it had been necessary. He would not disobey her again, of that, she was certain. And if he did, it would be a commoner who suffered his punishment. She knew Link was too honourable to allow another to bear the brunt of his misdeeds, and she would not harm him, so he would behave. It was a pity she had not thought of it before.

Zelda smiled at herself in the dresser mirror as Impa worked her hair into a tight bun. She insisted her hair be kept up and away from her face at all times. If war was to come, she must not allow a potential enemy to snag her by her long, luscious braids. She shivered. She almost relished the idea of a battle, where she would show the cunt sorceress the true might of the Hyrulean army! And with Link by her side, wielding the Sacred Blade, she would surely fall, and darkness would be averted. It was all so clear to her now.

She untied the pouch at her waist, bringing out the artefact. She frowned at it. So far, her army had remained as it was, in size and in strength. How did she make it work? There had been no instruction in the old texts, no hint of tuition in the ancient scrolls. She had tried prayers, she had tried spells, and she had even pricked her finger and smeared a drop of her own, divine blood upon it, but nothing had happened.

Zelda returned the stone to its pouch. No matter. Knowledge would come in time, and with that, an army to quell even the strongest of her enemies.

Dool had surprisingly ceased his daily letters and gifts at her request. She had sent a long and flowery letter to him, explaining her trouble with the sorceress, and how she must focus all her attention on eradicating this threat to Hyrule, ordering him to call his banners and have them ready, should a war begin. Dool had pleased her with responding almost instantly, promising an army of almost ten thousand strong, with reserves of seven thousand, should they be required. Zelda had laughed with pure delight as she read his letter. His forces more than doubled her own, and she did not have to worry about placating him whilst the sorceress was loose in Hyrule.

Her mouth twisted. Be that as it may, she must be found, and soon.

Zelda rose as Impa finished her hair, and reached for a folded piece of parchment.

“Take this to my alchemist,” she said. “Ensure it is brought to my chambers the very instant that it is ready. I would have it in my possession before my Chosen Knight returns.”

Impa took the note and flipped it open. Her brows lowered.

“Zelda,” she said, her voice stern. “This is most inappr-“

“I do not care,” Zelda snapped. “I have no desire to hear your thoughts on the matter. You have your order, _old friend,_ now do as I command!”

Impa sucked in a sharp breath, and for a moment, Zelda thought she would argue. She almost hoped she would. Impa had become increasingly belligerent and moody since Link had left on his mission, and the princess found that she had become quite sick of it.

But Impa nodded, once, sharply, turned on her heel and left. Zelda harrumphed and marched to the doors herself, taking the long route down to the Throne Room, where her commons awaited her.

Inside, Zelda walked the long, purple carpet, smiling as she felt common eyes upon her. They were standing in their customary place, behind the velvet rope, guarded and watched. She eyed the attending soldiers and guards. They were amongst her best, standing as a royal soldier should, still and straight backed. Most of her new soldiers were still searching the castle and its grounds, poking through the town and surrounding countryside, fanning out, delving into every nook and cranny the kingdom had to offer.

Her smile widened. She planned something quite special for Castle Town, where the sorceress had often visited, but she needed her Chosen Knight by her side, to protect her, before she ventured from her castle. She would find this sorceress, no matter what. Link’s behaviour had disturbed her, but she knew it would not be for too long. For her darling to still be under a spell, the sorceress could not have gone far, and the commons would give her the information she sought, no matter what.

As Zelda seated herself, she observed them, her people. They clustered together, as nervous as they always were when they were to come before her and speak their piece. But this was a different kind of nervousness, she knew, and she relished it.

“Bring the first forward,” she commanded.

The soldiers reached into the crowd and chose a commoner at random, selecting a man of middling age, balding, and sweating profusely. Zelda did not bother to fight the curl of her lip as he was half marched, half dragged before her.

“You have admitted to knowing the sorceress that has infested Hyrule,” she announced, gazing dispassionately down at the man, who wrung a cloth cap between his hands, staring at the steps leading up to the throne.

“I… did not know her, your Highness,” the man mumbled. “I merely-“

“Speak up!”

“I… I merely served her, once, in my shop. She was with the Hero. That’s why I remembered her.”

“Tell me of your interaction.”

“I-it was nothing s-significant, your Highness.” The man shuffled from foot to foot, his eyes darting around the chamber. “She s-simply bought a-a trinket, a necklace. We barely spoke a sentence between us!”

“Have you knowledge of here whereabouts?” Zelda demanded.

“No, your Highness.”

“Have you knowledge of her movements?”

“No, your Highness.”

“Are you telling me the truth?”

“Yes, your Highness! Of course I am, I wouldn’t lie to you.”

Zelda curled her lip again. She sensed dishonesty from the man. He had met with the sorceress, had spoken to her! Was the necklace a magical artefact, a means of communication, relaying her movements to the sorceress through this man so that she could always be one step ahead?

“I do not believe you,” Zelda said. The commoner gasped and took a step back, protesting. “Perhaps you will loosen your tongue some in the coming days.” Zelda waved to her soldiers and two approached, taking the man by the arms and dragging him away as he roared his innocence, begging her to believe him. He would languish in her dungeon until he was ready to tell all he had to tell, and if that did not break him, Zelda knew the Sheikah still had ways of making people talk.

She called the next forward, and repeated the process. From the man who stood before her, she also sensed dishonesty, and sent him to join the first. As more commons were dragged before her, each more frantic and gabbling than the last, she fidgeted.

Could these fools not see that she was doing this for the good of the kingdom? That the most important task set to her by the Divines was to root out the evil that stalked the realm? After all, it was _she_ who had failed to act in the first instance, _she_ who had not put the sorceress to death upon her arrival, _she_ who had failed to stop this oncoming darkness?

Could these weak, pathetic little imbeciles not see that they had to work together? If only they would stop protecting her, this vile witch, and give her something to work with, then they would all be saved? All they had to do was tell the truth! They _must_ help her put a stop to this threat, and if they did not want to assist her, then they must be working for the sorceress! It was the only explanation! She could not have it! She was the princess! She was Hylia’s descendent! She was more royal and divine than any of these mundane beasts that crawled before her!

Link knew, he saw! She giggled as an elderly woman was carted out of the Throne Room, weeping. He saw her divine might, he sensed her power. That was why he was so shy with her. He was so awed by her, that must be it! The spell… they spell he was under simply amplified it, that was all. She had to break through, and save him, as he had saved her, countless times before.

Soon enough, the commoners began to spill their secrets. One had seen the sorceress riding hard for the north, possibly heading to the mountains. Another swore he had seen her stalking down the alleyways of Castle Town, before turning into mist and dissipating into thin air. Yet another claimed she had bewitched him to begin an affair with the baker’s wife.

Zelda let these ones go. Their information would be noted, checked, and stored. She did not know the extent of the sorceress’s power, so she must treat any and all information as fact. A pattern would emerge, and she would find her, she would, yes, she would!

Impa arrived as the session was winding down, casting a disapproving glare about the Throne Room. Zelda smiled at her and rose, waving a dismissive hand at the soldiers and commoners. There was a small stampede to get to the doors that she observed with a slight frown. Such a poor display of manners!

“Walk with me, my friend,” Zelda said, taking Impa’s arm. “The sun is out, and I feel the need for fresher air.”

“Did you find anything useful?” Impa asked, her voice clipped.

“A great many pieces of information were gathered, but their usefulness is yet to be determined,” Zelda replied, waving an airy hand. “You will have the report by the end of today, and I expect your Sheikah to act on it immediately.”

“My Sheikah are exhausted,” Impa replied, curtly. “As are your men. They have done nothing but search and chase shadows for the better part of a month.”

“And they will continue to do so, until the sorceress is found,” Zelda said, her own voice cooling. “I need not remind you that this is the most important task that we have been set by the Goddesses. We must root out the infection before it spreads!”

“Nonetheless, your subjects deserve to rest,” Impa said. She stopped next to the castle walls, where ivy crawled. The gardeners had been at it, and it was dying, the leaves curling in on themselves, dry and brittle. Impa’s eyes were hard. “You are pushing them too hard, Zelda. What if there is a battle? Your soldiers will not be at their best if you-“

“Then we promote more recruits,” Zelda snapped. “We draft more men! There are always solutions, if you had the wit to look for them.”

Impa lowered her eyebrows. “I have not even begun to ask you about that farce in the Throne Room,” she growled. “Interrogating innocent townsfolk to gather bits of nonsensical information that will prove useless? What was the point other than to terrify the people who depend on you?”

“The point,” Zelda explained, slowly, as though to a child. “Is to find out where this foul creature is nesting!”

“None of them knew!” Impa exploded, startling the princess. “The information they gave you was false, borne of desperation, to save themselves! Fear is not a motivator, Zelda, it is a detriment! Can you not see what you are doing?”

Recovering, Zelda drew herself up.

“I see perfectly well, Impa.” She glared at her advisor, who glared right back. “You forget your place. It is to obey me and my every order. The townsfolk are hiding her, I know it! One of them must be, for she is still nearby! She has to be, for her spell on Link-“

“Ser Link is under no spell,” Impa declared. “And I do not believe he ever was. This must cease, Zelda. Thoria is long gone.”

“Do not utter her name,” Zelda hissed. “And do not contradict me! Obey me!”

Impa bared her teeth. “Ask yourself, Zelda. What has Thoria done, truly? Yes, she hid magic from us, but do you blame her? Link must have told her of the prophecy, and she would have been terrified!”

“She murdered the Mage of Shadows!”

“We do not know this,” Impa said. “And you sent him to remove her. If nothing else, she would have defended herself! Defence of one’s person is not a crime. Zelda, I implore you, cease this search. The fact that Link loved her does not mean-“

“ENOUGH!” Zelda shrieked. “He is under a spell! Dark times will come to my kingdom because of her! She is evil incarnate, she is Ganon come again!”

Impa took a step back.

“I have no desire to see you so distressed,” she said, her voice once again calm, almost soothing. “I worry for you, sweet one. For your health, you must cease this fruitless search.”

“I will not,” Zelda snapped. “And if you will not help me, then I have no further use for you. Begone from my sight!”

Hurt flashed across Impa’s eyes, dulling their crimson shine. But she bowed, deeply, and stalked away. Almost instantly, Zelda regretted her words, and started after her, raising her hand, her name forming on her lips. But her triforce glowed, and with its shine, it almost seemed as if the top triangle glowed as well. Zelda stopped, staring. It had surely just been a trick of the light, her eyes moving the afterglow of her own relic, but it gave her hope.

If Impa would not help her, so be it. She would do this herself. The kingdom would obey her, it was their duty. She had no doubt that Impa would go to her father and tell him everything that she was doing. For a moment, fear flooded her. Her father would stop her, as he always did when she was passionate about something. Her research, rebuilding the orphanage, providing her scholars with more funds, her impending marriage… but no matter. Rhoam was so weak these days he barely woke, and when he did, he was often delirious. Zelda sighed. She would be fine. She would let Impa cool off for a few days before she called her back. For now, she had other plans to prepare, and execute. Link would be back soon, surely. Then, all would be better.


	104. 104 - Link

Link returned to the castle, exhausted, as the sun was beginning to set. He had barely reached his rooms before a runner found him, informing him that Zelda wanted to see him immediately. Wearily, he turned away from the door and slumped through the castle.

He raised a hand to the grand doors of Zelda’s chambers. The Master Sword hung heavy on his back, and his fingers itched to draw it from its sheath. He shuffled from foot to foot, his hand hovering. Some base instinct within him was screaming at him to run, to turn and flee, to do anything but walk through the doors. It was the same feeling he had every time he stood outside a lost temple or dungeon, or walked into the area which contained a dreadful monster, yet to reveal itself. But what would happen to the people of Hyrule if he ran?

He took a breath, and knocked.

“Enter,” came Zelda’s voice.

Link eased the door open and slid inside. The light was dim, only a few lanterns lit along the walls. The most light came from a cluster of scented candles on the low table in the centre of the room. Zelda was seated behind them, her hands folded in her lap. The low, flickering light cast shadows over her face, hiding her eyes from his sight. He swallowed.

“Come,” the princess said. “Sit beside me.”

Link obediently came forth, almost without thinking. He glanced about the room. The bay windows were closed against the spring chill, the glass reinforced by magic. Breakable, but difficult. The doors to her balcony were likewise closed and strengthened. The door behind him was simple wood, but guarded by soldiers.

Link stopped before the table and bowed, unwilling to look at the princess. Her frustration and fury radiated from her like an aura of icy breath.

“I said, be seated,” Zelda said, patting the sofa beside her. She smiled, showing her teeth. Closer now, Link could see her eyes. There was something in them that he had not seen before, and he hesitated.

“Do you want for something?” Zelda asked. “I would ask Impa to bring you what you desire, but she is… out.”

“No, thank you,” Link said, his voice low. The dim light in the cavernous space made him feel as though he were in a tomb. The hearth was empty of fire, and the room’s chill added to the grim feeling. Zelda’s eyes flashed, and he quickly took a seat, perching on the edge of the sofa, as far away as he could get from the princess without appearing rude.

Zelda smiled, and slid along the sofa until her knee was touching his.

“How goes your search?” she asked, her voice pleasant and calm. But her eyes were narrow, and her hands fidgeted in her lap.

“I have found nothing,” Link replied. “Not a whisper, not a word. Not even a hair.”

“I thought as much,” Zelda replied. “No one has succeeded in finding the barest hint about where the sorceress may have gone.”

Link stared at his knees, keeping the princess in his peripheral vision. “If I knew her at all, she will be long gone. She may not even be in Hyrule any more.”

“I do not believe that,” Zelda said, and placed a hand on his thigh. Link fought not to recoil. “She is destined to bring destruction and pain to my kingdom. She will not have left.”

Link swallowed. “The prophecy stated that dark times will befall Hyrule, but it never said who-“

“It was explicit in who the dark stranger would be,” Zelda snapped. Link jumped and darted a glance her way. Her expression was enraged, distorted in the candlelight. His fear must have shown, for Zelda pulled a smile onto her face and leaned back, reaching under the table and producing two goblets, full of red wine.

“These weeks have been very trying indeed,” she said. “I wish for a night of pleasant conversation over a cup of wine with my dearest companion. I wish to forget my troubles.” Her smile widened as she passed a goblet to him.

Link accepted with reluctance. But he managed a smile. “Thank you.”

Zelda raised her goblet to her lips, her eyes on him. Link raised his own goblet, and every instinct within him screamed. _Don’t!_

He hesitated, and touched the rim of the goblet to his mouth, keeping his lips firmly pressed together. He didn’t need to be a soldier, or a Hero, to know not to accept a drink from someone he did not trust. And he did not trust Zelda.

As if to highlight his suspicions, Zelda relaxed as he mimed swallowing, her smile becoming more genuine.

“That’s better,” she said, placing her goblet on the table. Link followed suit. “Now. We are friends here.” She leaned back on the sofa, propping her chin in her hand. Her fingers traced a line along his leg, and he clenched his jaw, a suspicion forming in his mind. “We must relax. Let all your troubles just… fade away.”

Link turned his shoulder, rubbing his face, using the motion to rid his lips of the wine and to edge away from the princess. He surreptitiously rubbed his palm, the wine feeling slightly oily. He bit back a curse. There was something in his drink.

“Did you… require me for anything specific?” he asked.

Zelda shook her head, her eyes roving over his figure. He felt unclean under her gaze, and he fought the urge to bolt.

“I merely desire some company,” she said, her hand still caressing his thigh. Her fingers were winding subtly closer to his hip, and he shifted, reaching for one of the candles, bumping her hand away.

“These are nice,” he said, holding one aloft. “Did you make these yourself?”

Zelda curled a lip. “I am no wax-dipper,” she said.

“I meant no offence,” Link replied, quickly, using the excuse to shuffle back on the sofa, raising his hands. “I know many noble ladies enjoy such things.”

“Noble ladies with no talent, no wisdom, and no drive,” Zelda sneered. “My talent is all here.” She tapped the side of her head with a finger. “Tell me, my love. Do you enjoy a woman who enjoys wax-dipping? Or do you enjoy a woman who has real value?”

Link’s heart began to race. “I’ve… not given it much thought, Highness.”

“Please, call me Zelda, my love.”

A sharp blade cut through his trepidation. He was once again standing by the throne. Zelda was staring down at Thoria, small and dark against the white marble.

“ _I am your princess, and you shall address me as such, Ser._ ”

“I am your Chosen Knight,” he said, slowly. “I do not forget my place.”

“You could be so much more,” Zelda said, sliding along the sofa to him again. One hand crept around his shoulders to stroke his neck, and the other traced along his leg, her fingers sliding underneath the hem of his tunic.

Link jumped up, backing away.

“I think I’ve given you the wrong idea,” he said, raising his hands. “I don’t know how, but…”

“But what?” Zelda’s smile was back on her face, but it looked as though it had been painted. “Have some more wine, my love. We must talk of the future of Hyrule.”

“I want to go,” Link said, forgetting himself. He found he didn’t care. “I need to. I have to continue searching for Th-“

“Do not speak her name in my presence!” Zelda shouted. She rose from the sofa and barrelled across the room, flinging herself at Link. Taken completely by surprise, Link stumbled back, tripped on the rug, and fell heavily to the floor, the princess on top of him.

“You are still under her spell,” Zelda panted, grappling with his tunic. Link gasped as her hands found his belt, clumsily fumbling for the buckle. “Nothing has yet saved you. But I know. I know how to stop it.”

“Zelda, don’t!” he said, trying to squirm away.

“Why?” she demanded. “You did this with the sorceress. You did this with _her_. What makes her so special?” she tugged at the belt again, her nails raking along the skin of his stomach. “She didn’t love you. _I_ love you. You are mine, _my_ Chosen Knight! This is your destiny, and mine!”

Link pushed her hands away, and she slapped him. He swore, and tried to wriggle away again, but she was strong, stronger than what should be possible, the strength of the maddened. His shadow reared in his mind again, and he thought he saw him, standing behind Zelda, urging her on. But it couldn’t be. He was dead, and this shadow was too broad, too tall.

Zelda’s hands groped for him again and he yelped as she squeezed.

“We must unite the triforce,” she panted. She pulled at her dress, rucking it up over her knees. Link recoiled and kicked at the floor, trying to find purchase. “Wisdom and courage. United against power. But we will also have power, my love. All of it! The triforce shall be ours!”

“Get off!” Link gasped as she tugged at his clothes. She fell forward and tried to kiss him, but Link jerked his head away. Her eyes were wild, yellowing about the edges. With the light behind her, they seemed to glint, a yellowish, ruddy colour, deep within the pupils. The eyes of insanity.

“You need more wine,” she said, breathlessly. “Impa! Impa… no, she is not here.” She giggled, girlishly, the sound hellish. “You will relax with more wine.”

“Stop this!” Link pushed at her, gently, despite his fear. She was still the princess, insane or not, and to harm her would mean his death. She giggled again and took his hand, pressing it to her breast. Link yanked his hand away, and one of Zelda’s bookcases fell over with an almighty crash.

Zelda screamed, rising, and Link scrambled away, putting his back to the wall. His hand went to his sword, but he did not draw it. Zelda stood in the middle of her room, her hair wild, her chest heaving. As silence filled the room, she turned back to him, her eyes glinting.

“Come here, my love,” she said.

Link shook his head. “No.”

“You dare defy your princess?” she asked, her voice as soft as honey. “You dare disobey me? What would happen to the poor people of Hyrule if you deny me?” She came closer, and Link backed away. There was nowhere to run.

“I…” he glanced about. He could break through the doors, but the guards would catch him. He could run rings around the room, but he would tire before the princess. She had the strength of the maddened, and he had a month of next to no sleep. He could smash through the window or balcony door, but then what? Scramble across the roof in the pitch black and fall to his death, or wait for the guards to catch him? He could become a wolf and flee into the night, but how would he survive when the whole of Hyrule searched for him? What would become of the people if he fled? How many would she maim or kill until he returned?

He could throw himself off the roof. The thought was devastating in how tempting it was. Zelda was closing in, her hands reaching for him again.

“I want to wait,” he said, thinking quickly. Zelda paused.

“Wait? What for, my love?”

“I… you were right. I was under a spell,” he said. “I don’t want to be with… anyone… until I’m married.” He drew a breath. Zelda was watching him, her eyes narrowed, her lips a thin line. He prayed, silently. She could not marry him. He was not noble. All he needed now was time. He would run. He would pack what he could and flee. He would gather his strength, his friends, his allies, and raise an army, he would stop this evil that had found host in the heart of Hyrule, if only the princess would-

“I understand,” she said. Link kept the weight on the balls of his feet, watching her closely.

“You do?”

“Oh yes. Marriage is a sacred thing. A holy bond, in spirit, and in flesh.” Her smiled widened, and her eyes roved over him again. “Such… pomp and ceremony, as you put it. Do not fear, my love. I will not force you.”

“Thank you,” he said. He uncurled his fingers from the hilt of the Master Sword and clenched his fists to hide the trembling in his hands.

“You have my leave, my love,” she said. “Rest yourself. Tonight has been rather exciting, hasn’t it?”

Mutely, Link edged towards to door. Zelda followed, and pressed herself to him before he could reach the exit.

“Do not worry yourself about your curse for too much longer, my love,” she whispered. “I will find her. I will find her, even if I have to put Hyrule to the torch to smoke her out.”

Link gave a curt nod and slipped her grasp, shouldering through the door and sprinting down the spiralling staircase.

He fled through the castle, his mind whirling, splintering, breaking apart at the edges. He could not get the image of her wild, mad eyes out of his mind. He flew down the corridor, startling a pair of soldiers as he went. Down another flight of stairs, and another, rounding corners and almost crashing into suits of armour. The roiling in his mind condensed, landing in his stomach.

He skidded to a stop by an alcove and threw up behind a potted plant, clutching the rim for support. Panting, he drew a shaky hand across his lips, and rested his arm on the wall. He laid his head on that, his leather greave cool against his forehead. As his heart slowed, he looked up, and into the alcove, where a statue of Hylia gazed benevolently outward, her arms raised in a supplicating gesture.

It was the very same statue he and Thoria had hidden behind, what seemed like a lifetime ago. He stared at it for a long time. He reached out and brushed the smooth stone with his fingertips, before he turned, and made his slow and desolate way back to his rooms.


	105. 105 - Link

Inside, Link locked the door and wedged a chair under the handle. He undid his weapons belt and let it fall to the floor with a thud. He pulled his tunic over his head and sighed, draping it over his dresser. He rubbed his face, his eyes itching with tiredness. He knew he would not sleep. He ambled over to his wardrobe. He would pack what he could and leave through the window. He could scale down the wall in the right places. He would gather Epona and ride for Ordon. She would be safe with Fado, and he… Link gasped, remembering. Epona was dead. Slain. Tears filled his eyes and he staggered against his dresser.

He could become a wolf and run, and then… he would just have to figure out where he was going to go. He would have to leave his tunic and hat. He was too recognisable in them.

Tears spilled, and he lashed his hand across his face. He would have gone to Ordon with Thoria. How he had longed to show her his childhood home. But no. It was not to be. He would never see her again. His breath hitched. Everything had fallen apart. The princess had gone insane. Hyrule was in danger. The woman he loved was g-

He heard a sound behind him. The slightest noise, a feather brushing against snow.

He spun on the spot, drawing his knife, teeth bared. He froze, and his hand began to tremble, hardly daring to believe his eyes.

“ _Thoria?_ ”

She was leaning against the wall, a sad smile on her face.

“Hey, you,” she said.

Link dropped the knife and stumbled forward, throwing his arms around her neck. He kissed her deeply, holding her tight. He felt her smiling. He broke the kiss and stared at her. She was really here. Against everything, she was here. When he needed her most, she was here.

“Anyone would think you hadn’t seen me for weeks,” she said, and her eyes were shining in the lamplight. Link could not speak, and he fell forward to kiss her again, ignoring the tears of joy that fell from his eyes. Thoria held him tightly, and eventually pulled away.

“What happened here?” she asked, touching his face. “Your nose is crooked.”

“It got broken,” he murmured, relishing her palm on his cheek. He kissed her again, and then stepped back, his arms falling to his sides.

“You…” he faltered. “I…”

She sighed, and moved past him, sitting on the bed. She clasped her hands and hung her head. Her clothes were different to what he had seen before, tightly fitting black trousers and boots, and a short-sleeved top of a stretchy material that bared her arms to the shoulder. Her hair was longer, impossibly longer, as long as it had been before she cut it off.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I wanted to tell you. I really did. But then… you told me about the prophecy, and I didn’t think it was safe. I was afraid of what you would think of me.”

“You should have told me,” Link said, sinking into his chair. “I never would have hurt you.”

“I know,” Thoria sniffed. “It wasn’t you that I didn’t trust.”

“But I…” Link rubbed his temples. “You lied to me, Thoria.”

She shook her head. “No, I just… didn’t tell you.”

Link clenched his fists, the hurt bubbling up as anger. “Did you not think…?” he trailed off, the anger dissipating as quickly as it had come. “I wish you had.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, again.

Outside, an owl hooted, the sound loud over the whispering wind. The quiet stretched out, and he stared at her, drinking in the sight. It felt like a lifetime since he had seen her last, and so much had happened since then. But she was exactly as he remembered. Even the way she sat, her elbows on her knees, her head tilted a little to the side so her hair didn’t fall into her eyes. He wanted to go to her again, to take her in his arms and run into the night, far from here. But he couldn’t. He had to know the truth.

“Have you always had magic?” he asked.

Thoria shook her head. “No. I only… the first time I used it was when you fought the dragon.”

Link remained silent. He remembered the beast towering over him, fire all around, the agony as the dragon’s teeth gored his leg into a ruin.

“I thought I just got lucky when I killed it,” Thoria continued, staring at her clasped hands. “And I suppose I did. You’d weakened it, and all I had to do was stab it in the eye. Your training saved me.

“But then…” she sighed. “You were hurt. Dying. You were bleeding out. And I… I couldn’t bear the thought of it.” She raised her head, a small smile on her face, though her eyes were brimming. “I loved you even then. When you fainted I… felt something. I went all hot and cold and all I could think about was how I didn’t want you to die. I could… feel it. Your life. You had time, but not enough to get you anywhere safe. So, I stopped you bleeding.”

“But… how?” Link whispered.

“Dunno.” Thoria shrugged. “I just did. I can’t explain it. I can’t explain any of it. We don’t have magic at home. I don’t know where this has come from.”

“Why didn’t you tell me then?” he asked, his voice sharper than he meant it to be. Thoria looked away.

“I didn’t know what had happened. I was sure I was dreaming, or my panic made it seem like something magical happened.” She gave a dry chuckle. “I even thought Hylia had heard me.” She shook her head. “I didn’t want to worry you with nonsense. But when I tried to use it again… and did… I didn’t know how to tell you. Kinda like you not telling me about the prophecy for a long time.”

She gave him a meaningful look, and continued.

“I kept trying to tell you. But each time I built up the courage, something got in the way. We got interrupted, or you were called away… it just never seemed like the right time to turn your world upside down. And the longer I left it, the more I put it off… it just got harder and harder. I figured it would be easiest if I just… kept it to myself. We’d both be safer that way.”

Link dropped his gaze.

“I think I understand. Too soon and I would have reported it to Zelda. Too late, and…” he waved an inelegant hand. “This. But tell me. Is your magic like ours? How do you make it work?”

Thoria chuckled. “I just…” she opened her hand, and a black-eyed susan appeared in her palm. “I want it to happen and it does. It’s almost… sometimes I feel like it just happens, without thinking about it now. Small things, like how you don’t have to think about raising your arm, or walking. You just do it. I had to concentrate to make this, though.”

She passed the flower to Link, who took it delicately.

“Love conquers all,” she said, softly. “That’s what this one means.”

Link turned it over in his hands. It was beautiful, with soft, yellow petals and a sturdy stalk. It felt like a real flower, and smelled like a real flower. He shook his head.

“So, you weren’t just using me?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “Protecting yourself? Everyone thinks you cast a spell on me, to infatuate me.”

Thoria’s gaze softened. “I’ll be truthful. It began that way. I was alone in a strange land, with no idea where I was, who I was, or how to get home. I was completely, and utterly _alone_. If I was to be guarded by Hyrule’s greatest Knight, the most valued member of the court, a Hero…” she chuckled. “It made sense to have you on my side. This was before I knew I had this… magic nonsense. But time passed, and I found that, quite by accident, I didn’t have to pretend to like you. Not that it was hard.” She flashed him a small smile. “You’re a very likeable person.”

Link barked a humourless laugh. “Thanks.”

“You’d have done the same in my position,” Thoria said, staring at her hands. “I never cast a spell on you, though. My magic came to me at Death Mountain. Think about how you felt before. How could I have bewitched you?”

Link allowed himself to smile. It was true, he had been attracted to her from the moment he first laid eyes on her, even if he hadn’t realised it at the time. “I believe you,” he said, softly. His shoulders relaxed, and he looked up at her, framed in moonlight.

“What can you do, exactly? Other than what I’ve seen.”

“I don’t know,” Thoria replied. “I… from what I’ve tried I… I can do so much more than I could have ever dreamed. Things I couldn’t do, I learned how to. I mean… I can’t do everything.” She gave a dry chuckle. “I can’t turn invisible. I can’t change my shape. I can’t read minds. And it makes me tired, if I do too much.”

Link gaped at her. “You…” his heart sank. “You could use it to go home. To get out of here. To protect yourself.”

Thoria shook her head. “I want to stay with you.”

Link put his head in his hands. “Zelda’s gone mad looking for you,” he said. “She’s relentless. The things she’s doing…”

“I know,” Thoria said, darkly. “I’ve seen. It’s horrific. I don’t know how to stop it, short of letting her capture me.”

“I don’t want that.”

“Nor I. But I don’t know what I can do, short of killing her. And I don’t want that, either.”

He held back a sob. “I wish you had told me,” he said. “Then none of this would have happened.”

Thoria sighed. “It would have. Perhaps not like this, but Zelda would have been convinced I was the end to Hyrule. She would have locked me up, or worse. And Hylia forbid she ever found out about us.”

“She knows,” Link said, quietly.

Thoria recoiled. “Jesus. What did she do?”

“It’s why she called the council,” Link said. “Why she tricked you into using magic to save me.”

“How did she know I had magic?” Thoria grimaced and waved her hand. “No, don’t bother. I know. Navi.”

“Yes, Navi,” Link said. He glanced at Thoria, ice settling on his shoulders. “Did you really imprison her?”

Thoria raised her chin defiantly. “Only after she tried to poison me.”

Link gaped. “Navi wouldn’t-“

“And that’s why I didn’t tell you,” Thoria laughed, humourlessly. “You wouldn’t have believed me.”

“Yeah, I would have.”

“No. It was my word against hers, and she had the ear of the princess. I had to protect myself. And you.”

Link shook his head, the back of his neck prickling. “I’m learning things about you that I don’t want to. I didn’t think you were capable of imprisoning my oldest friend for months.”

Thoria had the good grace to look ashamed. But then she looked up, and her face was determined.

“I did it for us. How could I explain surviving? What would Zelda have done if she knew before now? Killed me?”

Link was silent for a long time.

“Navi really tried to poison you?” he asked.

“ _Bàs ban-dia_ ,” Thoria said. “A poison only the fae can make.”

Link rubbed the sides of his head.

“Why?”

“Because she is also infatuated with you,” Thoria said. She set her jaw. “She wanted to kill me to get me out of the way. I hadn’t shown any magic before then. It’s the only reason I can think of, as she admitted it.”

Link grimaced. He didn’t want to believe it. But after Navi’s confession on the balcony, the pieces all began to fall into place, the picture he had ignored for the last four years became whole.

“Did you really kill the Mage of Shadows?” he asked.

Thoria’s mouth twisted.

“I don’t know who that is,” she said. “But I can guess. Do you remember when I went missing from the party?”

Link nodded.

“A masked noble took me away,” she said. “I don’t know why I followed him. I can only imagine he put me under a spell. We went outside, into the dark, and he summoned a portal. I think he was trying to send me away, but I don’t know where. I only know it wasn’t home.” Her lip curled. “I broke out of his spell as he tried to push me in. We fought. My magic was new then. I didn’t know what I was doing.” She began to rub her hands together. Link fought off a shiver.

“I don’t know how I did it, but I pushed him in instead of me,” she said. “Then the portal closed. I don’t know if he’s dead, or just in another world. I felt bad, for a time. I know what it’s like to land in a strange place. But he tried to get rid of me.”

Link watched her, an icy finger needling along his spine. If it was true, then there was no way of knowing if she had actually killed the Mage. But how had she defeated such a powerful man? Was it even possible? She had only defended herself.

“I wanted to use this for good,” Thoria whispered, staring at her hands. She flexed her fingers, and an ear of wheat appeared between them. “Think of what I could do for Hyrule. I could help feed starving families. I could give warmth to those too poor to buy blankets. I could give shelter to those with no home.” She looked up, her eyes shining. “I never wanted this. But now it’s mine, I want to help people. It’s all I want.”

She rose. “Let me show you.” She approached, and laid a cool finger on the tip of his nose. He felt a warm tingle spread across his face, and with a soft and painless _click_ , he felt his nose reset itself. Thoria retreated and sat back down as he raised a hand to his face, marvelling. It was as if his nose was never broken.

Link stared at her as the implication sank in. If Thoria was as powerful as he suspected, Hyrule could become a utopia. The people would be safe, well fed, and happy. Monsters would be banished from the land. Should Ganon ever come again, he would feel much safer with Thoria by his side.

“Can… can you do more?” he asked. “Heal more than this?”

Thoria gave an elegant shrug. “I don’t know.”

“You saved my life, once,” he said. “I was dying, and you brought me back.” He thought of Epona, and his eyes filled. “Could… could you…?”

“No,” she said, softly. “I’m sorry. I saved your life because you still had time. Your life was still in you. And I didn’t know what I was doing. It nearly killed me.”

“But…”

“ _Èist rium_. I’m sorry, Link, but no magic can stop Death once he has a hold of you. Once you are past the point of no return, no magic can bring back a soul from beyond.”

Link hung his head. He knew the truth when he heard it, but it still hurt to hear it aloud. He would never again have his faithful steed by his side.

He considered Thoria’s power again. She might not be able to save people from death, but she _could_ heal. On the battlefield, she would be invaluable, able to bring soldiers back from mortal wounds if she reached them in time. She would be nothing but an asset to the kingdom. But was she being truthful? Was this kind, caring, honest woman truly the one who sat before him, and not just a projection of his desperate hope? His triforce tingled. He knew she was telling the truth.

Yet a doubt still remained.

He rose, and picked up his weapons from where he had dropped them. Wordlessly, he unsheathed the Master Sword, the steel rasping against the metal guard. Thoria tensed as Link pointed it at her.

“This is the Master Sword,” he said, quietly. “A sacred blade that evil cannot touch. It is as much a part of me as my triforce, and my tunic. I don’t want to believe in the prophecy. But I have to know.”

“Do you think I’m evil?” she asked, her eyes flicking between him and the shining blade.

Link didn’t answer her. He didn’t want to believe it. His heart told him she was good. But his heart had made him ignore all the signs of her magic.

“Please,” he said.

Thoria gave a weak smile. “Is my word not good enough?”

Link said nothing. Thoria held his gaze in silence as time crawled by, the Sword unwavering between them. Slowly, she raised her hand, and laid it on the flat of the blade.

Nothing happened.

“I’ll try not to be offended,” she said, the ghost of a laugh in her voice. “I understand why.”

Link’s laugh was truer as he sheathed the sword. “Forgive me. Now I have proof. Zelda will have to hear it.”

Thoria shook her head. “No. She won’t care.”

Link had to agree. “She was beside herself,” he said. “Finding out about us… it changed her.”

“Can you imagine what she would have done if we did actually elope?” Thoria said, injecting a little lightness into her tone. Link heard the unspoken question.

“You were right, we would have been on the run for the rest of our lives,” he said. “Would you want that? To live your life always looking over your shoulder?”

“I can hide us, now,” Thoria said. “Now you know about me, I can use it for us. I’m learning more every day. We still could, you know. If you’d have me.”

Link rose, and went to her. He knelt before her and took her hands in his own.

“Of course I would,” he said. “But we need to be careful. The soldiers are on high alert, and if you’re seen…”

“I won’t be.”

“If I’m seen,” he continued. “We need to wait for this to die down. Give it a week. Zelda won’t give up, but the soldiers will grow weary, and will stop looking so hard. I need to gather my things. Find a place for us.” He wanted to tell her to leave with him right then. But with her return, he felt safer. He could afford a little time. If he went missing right after Zelda’s assault, she would suspect something. He would have to invent a reason to leave the castle, and she would not look for him until it was too late. He swallowed. The people would suffer. But with Thoria by his side, perhaps he could still protect them, if he got them both to safety.

“Okay,” Thoria said, smiling. “I’ll get my shit together too. I’ve been taking what I can and storing it.”

“Where?” Link asked. “Where have you been hiding all this time?”

“Right here,” Thoria said, waving her hand around. “In the castle. I told you, I was sure there were secret passages hidden all through the place. I was right. I found one months ago, and it connected to a load of others. Some chambers are big enough to live in. I can go from one end of the castle to the other without ever being seen. No one knows about them.”

Link laughed. “Only you, Thoria.”

“Only me.” She smiled, and rose, drawing him up.

“Wait,” Link said. He darted to his dresser and fumbled inside. At last, his fingers found what he was searching for. An old emerald and gold ring, gifted to him in his adventures. It had never fit him, and seemed better suited to a woman. He had never gotten around to selling it, and he was glad. He turned and offered it to Thoria.

“It’s never going to be official,” Link said, as Thoria raised her hand, dreamlike, to his. “But it will be enough for me.”

He slid the ring onto Thoria’s finger, and found that if fit perfectly.

“My wife,” he whispered.

Thoria’s face split into a wide smile.

“It’s beautiful,” she said, and drew him to her, her lips soft against his own. The kiss was gentle at first, but Link found himself sinking into it, pulling her closer. He moved forward and they fell onto the bed. Thoria put a hand on his chest, breaking the kiss.

“I love you," she whispered.

XXXXXXX

As it always was, it seemed that it was over too quickly. It could have been minutes or hours, and still, it would always be over too quickly.

Above him, Thoria chuckled quietly. She remained where she was, gazing down at him, a wry smile playing on her lips, her warmth enveloping him. His head still spinning, Link could only mumble non-words. After a time, but still all too soon, she slid off him and lay beside him, curling up in the crook of his arm.

“I hate to leave,” she said into the darkness. “But I must. I can’t risk us getting caught.”

“Don’t go,” Link said, turning to her and pulling her close. “Stay with me.”

“I can’t,” she said. “We mustn’t risk it.”

“Just for tonight,” he implored her. “Please.”

She sighed, softly, and kissed his forehead.

“Alright,” she said. “But I’ll be gone at first light.”

Link remained silent, his heart beginning to slow. Her hand rested on his chest, and her ring caught the moonlight, a tiny glimmer of white in the darkness. _His wife_. He rolled onto his side and pulled her closer, locking her in a tight embrace. She nestled into him, her lips against his collarbone, his face in her hair.

For the first time in years, he fought to stay awake. How could he sleep now? She was here, for the first time in what felt like an age, and she would be gone before the dawn. Gone for however long it took for the guards to grow bored of their exercise, for however long it took for him to slip out, unnoticed, and flee with her, with enough provisions to last them until they were out of Hyrule and away, journeying to the furthest corners of the land, where they could be safe, and free.

Where would they go? He knew they would have to leave Hyrule far behind, but what lay beyond the borders? Did the world end at the edge of the map? Or was there a great, vast expanse, unending possibility, a whole new world to discover?

He smiled. He hoped they would settle in a forest. Somewhere away from other people, with game to hunt and fertile soil for a vegetable garden. Trees for shelter and firewood, enough space to build a decently sized home.

Would he even be able to leave? He opened his eyes and looked at the back of his hand, able to trace the lines of his mark without seeing it. The triforce was a part of him, and a part of Hyrule. If he left, would it leave him too? And would it be such a terrible thing, to be released from the trials that destiny had laid at his feet?

All of it would be worth it, if Thoria was at his side. Together, they could go anywhere, do anything, be anyone. He would happily live in a cave in the Snowpeak Mountains if it meant she was there with him.

He felt sleep pull at his eyelids, drawing them closed. He fought against it. Her face was shadowed in the dark, the moonlight drawing only the faintest line on her cheek, but he knew every detail of her face like his own. She stirred in his arms.

“Can’t sleep?”

“Don’t want to.”

“You’re tired,” she said, running a finger along his jaw. “You need to rest.”

“I can rest later,” he said, touching the tip of his nose to hers. “I don’t want to sleep.”

Thoria smiled gently, the corner of her mouth pulling outwards, whilst her brows lowered into a mischievous grin, and her hand trailed along his chest, across his stomach, and further still, her touch light and soft until he swelled in her palm.

“Well then. I’m sure I can think of a way to keep you awake.”


	106. 106 - Zelda

Zelda sat on her sofa in the dark. The lamps were unlit, and the curtains were closed. Impa was snoring softly beside her, slumped against her shoulder. Her aide had come when she called, and Zelda had begged her forgiveness for her rudeness, serving her tea and curling against her, smiling as Impa forgave her actions, and they spoke of little nothings as the light faded.

She thought that she ought to feel guilty, slipping a sleeping draught into her oldest friend’s drink as they spoke of little things late into the night.

Link filled her mind. His wild eyes as she mounted him, her hands seeking his belt. His protestations, voiced only because he was honourable and kind. He wanted to wait until marriage. He had said so.

But she could not marry him. Not legally. Not until she was queen, and had drafted the new law that allowed her to marry whomsoever she chose.

Quietly, she rose, the skirts of her dress rustling on the floor. Impa slid down to the cushions and did not stir. Slipping on her flat shoes, Zelda crept to her door and slipped out, easing it closed behind her with a nearly silent click. She had dismissed her guards. Impa was enough protection.

The castle was silent. Zelda trailed her hand along the bannister of the spiralling staircase until she came to a nondescript patch of wall. She traced the old stone with her fingers, finding the groove by touch. She pulled, and with a grinding that was agonisingly loud in the stillness, the section of wall opened just wide enough for her to slip into.

The passage connected her tower to her father’s. She had used it only rarely, and mainly to listen at the other end as her father held meetings with the council, or argued with her mother, in a time long ago.

It was as black as pitch within, and Zelda conjured a tiny, golden light in the palm of her hand. She willed it to grow brighter, but the orb stayed stubbornly dim. It would have to do. Holding her hand before her, she stepped carefully along the cold stone, one hand brushing the wall. Cobwebs were in abundance, and Zelda cringed away from the spiders that scuttled in the light.

In minutes, she was at the other end. She found the secret handle, turned it, and pushed.

The passage into her father’s chambers was hidden behind an old bookshelf in his reception room, and it glided open silently across the carpet. The hinge squeaked, and Zelda froze, straining her ears for the slightest sound. When she was sure no one had heard, she eased herself out, and closed the bookcase behind her.

There was a low light flickering under the door of King Rhoam’s bedchamber. Zelda extinguished her orb and crept on, her footsteps muffled by the deep, plush carpet. She raised a hand to the door and pushed it open.

Rhoam lay asleep in bed, looking thinner and weaker than ever. His reading glasses were on his nose, and a book lay closed by his hand, resting atop the covers. A lamp burned at his bedside, casting flickering shadows about the cavernous room. Zelda took a breath, and lowered herself into the seat by his bedside, shifting the single cushion behind her.

“Father,” she whispered.

Rhoam stirred, a frown creasing his brow.

“Zelda?” he said, his voice thin and reedy. Zelda bit back her revulsion. There was a scent in the bedchamber, something that the abundant flowers could not quite cover. Something cloying and sickly. “My daughter. What is the hour?”

“It is late, Father,” she said. “Most of the castle is abed.”

“As should you be,” he said, struggling to rise. Zelda watched him until he gave up, the flesh of his face sagging. His hands trembled as he pointed to the bedside. “Pass me a cup of water, child.”

Zelda obeyed, holding the cup to his lips as he sipped, until he raised his hand, and she set it by the bedside once more. She picked up a handkerchief and dabbed tenderly at the moisture at the corner of his mouth.

“Why have you come, my daughter?” Rhoam asked, his rheumy eyes squinting.

“I wish to wed,” she replied, her voice as soft as the lamplight. She almost smiled as Rhoam’s lips trembled upwards.

“Ah, my sweet child, this gladdens me. Perhaps I have yet time to see you married to a fine man.” He patted her hand, his skin cold and papery. “Pray tell. Whom is it that you have chosen? I know you do not care for Articus, but perhaps Lord Resper? He may be older, child, but he is a kind man…”

“I have chosen my Knight,” Zelda replied. “The Hero of Twilight.”

She felt a sort of sick satisfaction as disappointment and then rage crossed Rhoam’s face.

“I have already told you,” he said, his voice cracking. “I have ordered you, no! You are not to marry a peasant!”

Zelda patted his hand, and her triforce glimmered. It felt as though a strong hand was atop her own, warm and comforting, their triforce glowing to match hers. “I love him, Father. Is there nothing I can say to convince you?”

Rhoam glared, and tried once more to rise. His frail arms would not support his weight.

“I forbid it! I will not see my daughter disgrace our family like that!”

Zelda smiled again, tilting her head. She reached behind her for the cushion on which she sat.

“Do not fret, Papi,” she said, rising. “You will not have to.”

And Zelda pressed the cushion to her father’s face. Rhoam roared into it, the sound muffled and weak. He beat his fists on the covers of the bed, and scrabbled feebly at her hands. His legs kicked under the covers, little, juddery movements that slowed, and slowed…

And stopped.

Zelda held the cushion over his face, pressing hard. She dared not move. Was he only pretending? If she moved, would he jump up and spank her as he had when she was a child, spitting his displeasure in her face? What _terrible_ trouble she would be in.

Another minute passed.

She cautiously eased off the pressure, and removed the cushion from her father’s face.

His eyes stared up, unseeing. His jaw was slack and his tongue lolled, the ghost of horror on his face. Zelda gasped and took a step back, her hand going to her mouth. A pungent odour began to emanate from the sheets, and she wrinkled her nose.

“Disgusting,” she whispered. “You were ever dignified, Father. But now I see you for what you really are. Your oppression leaks from you like bile.”

Carefully, she placed the cushion on the chair, and plucked a long, golden hair from the back of it. She fed it to the lamp, watching it crisp and curl. She turned her back and crept away, casting one last look back at her father. He was as still as stone, stiller than those sleeping can ever be. She curled her lip and slipped out, ensuring the door was closed exactly the way it had been before. She tugged the bookcase open, and slid back into the secret passage, conjuring her light once again.

This time, it was brighter.

Zelda hurried along the passage, ignoring the spiders, and stumbled at the other end as the full weight of what she had just done struck her like a hammer.

She covered her mouth as a frightened sob threatened to escape her, sinking to her knees. Trembling, she sucked in the stale air of the passage, pressing her quivering fingers to her lips. She squeezed her eyes shut as tears leaked out from beneath her lids, her light flickering in her other hand.

She had killed her own father. The goddesses would smite her down for such a sin. She moaned into her hand, unable to banish the image of his horrified death mask from her mind.

“I did it for Link,” she whispered into the gloom. “I did it for us. Father would never allow us to unite the Triforce. And I cannot wait any longer. It was the right thing to do. He was sick. He was suffering. I-it was a… k-kindness.”

She huddled against the cold wall until her trembling stopped and her tears dried. Shakily, she rose and found the release for the secret door, wincing as the stones ground against each other. She edged out and closed the passage, before extinguishing her light and hurrying up the last stairs to her chambers.

Inside, Impa was still asleep on the sofa, slumped to one side. Her breathing was soft and steady. Zelda suddenly found a hunger growing within her, a hunger that would not be sated with food. She frowned. How long would the draught last? She could not have Link, not yet, but her aide always obeyed her.

Shaking her head, she moved for her bedroom, stripping off her light dress and beating away the cobwebs that still clung to it. She ran a brush through her loose hair, checking herself carefully in the mirror. There was no dust nor dirt on her skin, and her dress was free of evidence.

She climbed into bed, shuffling towards the middle of the gigantic mattress. She lay back, sliding a hand along her belly, summoning Link’s face into her mind.

Tomorrow, she would receive the news. She would cry, she would wail, she would wear her mourning dress and she would grieve. And then she would be crowned queen. She must not rush the process. It would be unseemly. She must give time to allow the people time to mourn before she was crowned. And the moment she was, she would announce her other news.

The news that her wedding would be the very next day.


	107. 107 - Link

Link started awake to the sound of tolling bells. He reached for Thoria, and found his bed empty. He let his hand fall as sorrow bled into his body. She had said she would go. When had he fallen asleep? Was it after she had traced a line of kisses along his belly and taken him into her mouth, driving him wild with bliss? Was it after he had sluggishly climbed on top of her, shaking off the waves of exhaustion, so tired he could barely move, but seeking her comfort once more? Was it when she had kissed him and softly whispered into his ear?

_Sleep._

Yes, that would have been it. He chuckled wryly. Even the memory of her voice made his eyelids flutter. His bedding still smelled of her, of her hair and skin and more. He buried his face in the pillow and breathed her in. A week. That would be all he would need to prepare, for the soldiers to drop their guard. Perhaps even less, if the goddesses were kind. He had time.

The bells were still tolling. Something tugged at the back of his mind. The bells were rarely rung. Why were they ringing now? He sat up wearily, rubbing his eyes. The bells had been rung in times of war, to signal the people into shelter. Was there an attack coming? He strained his ears. No. there was no clamour outside, no rushing of feet, no frantic voices. Was there to be a gathering in the temple, a celebration of something? No, the time of year was all wrong.

Then…

Realisation dawned, and an icy vice gripped his heart.

King Rhoam had died.

Link threw off the covers and stumbled out of bed, snatching his clothes from where they had been tossed about the room. He hopped, tugging on his boots, as a sombre knock came at the door.

“Come in,” he called, sweeping the room for his hat. He spied it fetchingly draped across the bedside cabinet.

The door swung inward to reveal a red-eyed Llewellyn.

“I apologise for disturbing you, Ser,” he said, his voice choked with grief. “But I bring terrible news. K-king Rhoam has passed from his world, may the goddesses give him p-peace.”

So, it was true. Link swallowed.

“That’s awful,” he said, trying to inject sorrow into his voice. “I… I don’t…” he paused, distracted. If Rhoam was dead, then that would mean Zelda was to be queen. He gave an involuntary gasp, his eyes widening. He no longer had a week. He had no time at all.

The councillor seemed to misinterpret his distress, stepping forward to pat his shoulder.

“It is dreadful,” Llewellyn agreed, dabbing his eyes. “He was a good king, and we shall all mourn his passing with heavy hearts.”

“Yeah,” Link said, staring about his room. What could he pack, here and now? And how would he tell Thoria? He bit back a curse. He would be expected at the funeral. He must not arouse suspicion! But had to leave, _now._ “Does Zelda know?” he asked, stalling.

“Her Highness was informed at first light, when he was discovered,” Llewellyn said, giving a great sniff. “She is, of course, devastated.”

“Of course,” Link echoed. “Is… is there anything I can do?”

“I believe not, Ser,” Llewellyn replied. “Her Highness will call upon you if she needs you.”

“Okay,” Link said. Llewellyn gave a watery, brave smile, and left. The instant the door clicked shut, Link sprang across the room, flung open his wardrobe and began the throw items into his travel pack. A change of clothes, his cloak for all weather, a few, small bottles of potion. He must be ready to leave at a moment’s notice. He stared about the room, catching sight of his pale, frantic face in the mirror.

“Thoria,” he said, into the air. “Come out. I need to talk to you.”

There was no reply. Link cursed, and leapt to his desk, scrabbling for parchment and pen.

 _Change of plan,_ he scrawled _. It must be sooner than we thought. Find me._

He blew on the ink and folded the note, staring once more about his room. Every place he could hide the note seemed instantly too obvious, or too secure for her to find it. He swore, more loudly this time. How had she gotten in before? Had she come in through the balcony doors, or was there a secret passage directly into his room?

He ran a hand along the wall, and tapped. It was solid stone. He pulled the painting off the wall. There was nothing behind it. He checked under the bed, behind the wardrobe, even in the bathroom. There was nothing he could find.

He burned the note. It was too dangerous to leave out. He pulled out her diary, flipping to the sketches of flowers. He swore again. He had no idea which flower meant “urgent danger,” or “run away,” or even if he could get one if he knew. He hoped that she would know what the bells meant. They were still tolling, still sending out the incessant, mournful message to the kingdom that Rhoam had gone.

XXXXXXX

Two full days passed before Zelda called for him. Link spent his time pacing his rooms, wandering the castle, searching for Thoria, calling her name softly whenever he was alone. She did not appear. Link didn’t blame her. It had been risky enough to visit him the once, and though he longed for her presence once more, he knew she was hiding, waiting until it was safe to emerge.

He made his way to one of the grand reception rooms to find Zelda and Impa alone within. Zelda was dressed in an elegant gown of coal black lace that reached her chin and toes, with long sleeves and black silk gloves. A black, net veil covered her face, blurring her features. Impa was clad in her usual attire, but her cloak and collar were black. Her eyes were red and puffy.

“Ser Link,” Zelda said, her voice hoarse. “Thank you for coming.”

Link nodded and clasped his hands behind his back. Zelda gave a great sniff.

“I… find myself lost,” the princess said. “I have so much to do, so much to prepare for… so much to worry about.” She gave him a trembling smile from beneath her veil. “I must ask for your support. I need you now, more than ever.”

Link remained silent. He glanced at Impa, who did not meet his eyes.

“There is so much,” Zelda continued. “So much for me to do. Now Father is gone…” she stopped and ducked her head.

“You have my deepest condolences,” Link said, his voice low. “I would not wish this pain on anyone.”

Zelda nodded and took a breath.

“I need your help,” she said. “I must plan Father’s funeral, plan my coronation, and…” she folded her hands in her lap. “I must find and end this sorceress. For I am to become queen. I am at more risk than I have ever been before. This threat must be abolished before I take my throne, my crown, as Queen of Hyrule.”

Impa glanced at him, her expression unreadable behind her collar. Link clenched his teeth.

“What would you have me do, Highness?” he asked.

“Whatever I ask,” she replied. She rose. “I believe the sorceress is still in Hyrule, possibly close by. I must find out where she is.” She stepped to him, and folded her veil back over her head. Her face was tear-free, and her eyes were bright. “I will call on you later tonight. I would have your devotion, your service, your strength.”

Link hesitated, glancing at the Sheikah again. She gave a subtle nod.

“I will do what I can,” Link said. “But, Princess, I…”

Zelda raised a hand. “No more. I require your obedience, and that is all. Please, leave me, and rest yourself. I will call on you when the sun sets.”

Link retreated, hurrying away from the reception room, increasing his pace until he was sprinting towards his own chambers. He barrelled inside and slammed the door.

“Thoria,” he murmured. “If you’re there. Please. I need to talk to you. We’re running out of time.”

He listened to the silence for a long minute, a minute that stretched to an hour. Thoria did not appear. Link cursed, softly. He opened the drawer of his dresser and felt around for the secret compartment, opening that and pulling out her diary. He flipped open the pages until he found her flowers, pressed flat. He gazed at them a long time, until the sun began to lower, casting washes of umber and purple across the clouds. Umber, purple, and red, a red that spoke of blood.


	108. 108 - Link

Darkness had fallen as Link left the castle, next to Zelda as she strode in the direction of Castle Town. Behind them came the clanking of a hundred pairs of armoured boots. Nervously, he glanced at the princess, who was staring ahead, her hair swept back from her face and held with her crown. Her mouth was set in a grimly determined line. Their shadows stretched before them, long and narrow, cast by the light of the torches in the hands of every man behind them.

As they approached the town, there was a flurry of frightened movement. People darted inside their homes, shutters slammed closed, curtains were drawn. Zelda halted in the middle of the square, raising a hand. The soldiers behind them stopped with a single clank of their boots.

Wordlessly, Zelda gazed about Castle Town. The air was so thick with tension that Link felt he could carve it with his Sword. He balanced on the balls of his feet and thought of Thoria, hidden away in the castle walls. Zelda was looking in all the wrong places, and he was glad. Thoria would be safe.

Zelda lowered her hand, gesturing at the dark buildings before her. Wordlessly, the guards split into smaller groups and marched to the houses and shops, hammering on doors. Five remained behind, their spears and swords held at the ready.

As people began to appear, the soldiers accosted them, dragging them out, shouting questions. Link gasped, and began to stride forth as one soldier struck a man in the mouth. One of the remaining guards lowered his spear, barring Link’s way as the man crumpled to the ground. He turned furiously to Zelda.

“What is the meaning of this?” he barked. “What the hell are you doing?”

Zelda gave him a cold smile. “I am searching for the sorceress, my love. With her power, who knows who she has bewitched, or where she is hiding? We must root her out.”

“She’s not here!” Link said. “Why the hell would she be here? She would be leagues away by now!”

“Her spell is still on you, Ser,” Zelda said. She gave him a cold smile. “I know, my love. I do not blame you, but I can see it in your eyes. She must be close by for it to be so strong. We will find her, and end her evil.”

One of the townspeople began to shout, waving his hands and glaring at the soldiers at his door. He slammed it in their faces with a vicious curse. The soldiers looked back to Zelda.

“He must be hiding something,” she murmured. “And even if he is not, perhaps an example should be made.”

Before Link could say a word, she nodded at the soldiers. They raised their torches and held them to the door of the shop, smashing the windows and leaning in, throwing their torches inside. Link cried out as the fire took hold, horrified at what he was seeing.

“Princess, stop this madness!” he said. He grabbed her arm, ignoring the spear that was prodded into his chest. “Please, these are your people! You’re supposed to protect them, not burn them!”

“I am protecting them,” she said, glancing down at his hand on her arm. She raised her own hand and stroked his fingers. “When they see that she cannot be hidden away from me, they will tell me what I want to know, and they will all be safe from her wickedness. It has spread far, my love, and the fires shall cleanse the land of her foul touch.”

“None of them know her!” Link gasped, as the shopkeeper ran out into the street in his nightclothes, howling in fury and terror. “They’re simple townsfolk!”

“You were a simple ranch hand, once,” she said, gazing up at him. Her eyes were wild with madness. He whipped his hand from her arm and took a step back. “Do you not see? All of them have potential.”

“For greatness, not for evil!” Link shook his head. “Zelda, please. Don’t do this.”

Zelda just smiled. “Until the sorceress is found, tried, and burned for her crimes, we shall not rest. She deserves much worse for what she has done to you, my love.”

Link bit down a curse, watching helplessly as another building was put to the torch. Somewhere, an infant began to screech, its incessant, piercing cry loud over the terrified voices of the townsfolk. Some ran out of their homes, drawing buckets of water to splash on the burning buildings. Through the darkness, Link saw their eyes. All of them turned to him, pleading, begging.

 _Save us, Hero!_ They all seemed to be saying. _Why are you just standing there? Why won’t you save us?_

He made to move forward again as the soldiers smashed the windows of another property, and was again rebuffed by the soldier. He glared at him, seeing nothing but darkness beneath the helmet.

“Get out of my way,” he snarled.

“Stay where you are,” Zelda said. “You are here for my protection. You are not to interfere. That is an order, Ser. Disobey me, and I shall have to select a citizen to take your punishment.”

The soldier chuckled, and Link clenched his fists. Gritting his teeth, he glared out over the scene, flames reaching high into the black sky, embers peppering the velvety dark like stars. He could feel the heat rolling off the fire, even from so far back.

“Please,” he said again. “Stop this, Princess. I’ll do anything.”

She gave him a long, deep look from below her lashes. “Anything, Ser?” Her lips twitched, puckering slightly.

He hesitated, repulsed. Just for a moment, but it was enough. Zelda’s soft smile turned into an ugly grimace, and she turned away.

“It stops when they tell me where she is.”

Link could only watch in muted horror as Castle Town was ransacked. Possessions were thrown from windows, people were pushed to the floor and struck. The soldiers seemed to be almost revelling in the destruction, growing more enthusiastic with each passing moment, lacking the discipline needed to be a true soldier of Hyrule. Another building was put to the torch. Smoke boiled into the air, lit from below as the air turned hazy with heat. Link felt himself sinking into a stupor, powerless to help the people he had fought so hard to save.

A thought flashed into his mind. He knew where Thoria was. He could tell Zelda, and all this would stop! Thoria was clever, she would know to run. He shook his head. No, how could he? He could tell Zelda that she was elsewhere, in Zora’s domain, perhaps, and they would leave the town alone! But would she believe him? She held the Triforce of Wisdom, surely she would see through such a façade!

He swore as a roof collapsed, sending a fountain of embers into the black sky. She would just ransack Zora’s domain, cause a war to punish him, and when Thoria was not found, she would come right back to Castle Town. He could not turn her ire on more innocents. How could he stop this and keep Thoria _and_ the people of Hyrule safe?

Zelda pointed again. Link followed her gesture, and his heart stopped.

Shad’s bookshop.

“No!” he shouted, but it was too late. The soldiers thundered forth, smashing down the door and driving their shields into the windows. Glass shattered and wood cracked. They entered, shouting, and emerged a minute later, hauling Shad by his collar.

Link could not hear their voices as they interrogated him, Shad leaning away and pleading, his eyes wide, his gestures wild and desperate.

Zelda’s smile was rigid, fire dancing in her eyes.

“He knew her,” she said, her voice cold and carrying. “They shared a love of research. He may have helped her. He may be hiding her.”

“He says he knows nothing,” one of the soldiers called back.

“He is lying,” Zelda replied. “He will tell me.”

Shad shook his head, protesting his innocence, stuttering over his words. Zelda shook her head.

“Very well,” she said.

She pointed again at the bookshop.

Shad fell to his knees, his hands clasped before him, beseeching the soldiers. From a smashed window, his cat appeared, a streak of grey against the dark night. Without stopping, she fled, as the soldiers turned back towards the shop, holding their torches aloft.

Shad’s anguished scream was audible over the din as the soldiers threw their torches through the windows. The old books, piled high, took the fire quickly, spreading as though the books were soaked in oil. Shad scrambled up, and stumbled back inside, uttering a wordless, desperate wail.

Link snapped out of his horrified daze.

“ _Shad!_ ” he roared, leaping forward. The guard next to him lowered his spear again, but Link ripped it from his hands. He clouted the soldier around the helmet, sending him flying back, and sprinted to the burning bookshop as the fire rose and grew, running along the mantle of the door, eating the wood. Without pausing, he leapt inside.

The heat was unbearable. Fire rose all around, greedily spreading across the wallpaper, turning the cream black in an ever growing wave. The rug under his feet began to burn. The front room, once filled with piles of books, was now held up by pillars of flame.

“SHAD!” Link called, and coughed. The smoke was thick and black and oily. He raised his hands to shield his face, the heat searing his skin. He ventured forward, pulling a waterskin from his pouch and splashing it over his head and shoulders. It began to steam, evaporating almost instantly.

He reached the stairs, not yet burning, and saw Shad run past at the top, his arms loaded with books. Link didn’t hesitate. He dove forward as a pile of books collapsed, sending a wave of fire rushing up behind him. He sprinted up the stairs, taking them four at a time.

The smoke coiled ever thicker, and Link coughed again, crouching low as a wave of dizziness rocked him.

“ _SHAD!_ ” he shouted again. There was a flicker of movement through the smoke. Shad was in another room, books spilling from his arms as he tried to carry more than he was capable of. Link fought his way through the smoke, flames licking up the bannister, flickering outside the window.

“Leave them!” Link cried, reaching the scholar. Shad’s face was soot-stained and streaked with tears.

“I can’t!” he wept.

“We’re going to die in here!” Link coughed again. “Leave them or you’ll burn to death!”

“I don’t care!” he sobbed. “My books!”

Link reached for him, pulling him to his chest as the house groaned around them. The books fell to the floor and Shad struggled, fighting to reach them.

“Your work will count for nothing if you’re dead!” Link snapped, hauling the scholar away. Shad fought even harder, reaching for anything not yet burning.

The landing was alight now, and Link saw the stairs were impassable. Cursing, he lifted Shad off his feet, slinging him over his shoulder. The scholar hung limp, a dead weight. Link grunted and pushed on, shouldering open a door at the far end of the landing and slamming it closed behind them.

The air was clearer in here, though it was still desperately hot. Link deposited Shad in a chair and ran to the window, driving his elbow through it. Below was more fire. He turned, spotting Shad up and scrambling to gather the books in the room. His face was haunted. He shoved Link out of the way and threw his armful of books to the street, the pages flapping in the air. He repeated the movement before Link grabbed him.

“We need to get out,” he said, forcing the scholar to look at him. “Forget the books.” He looked out the window. Fire was roaring ever upwards, and he swore. They couldn’t climb down. “We need to get on the roof. Jump to another building. Can you do that?”

Shad’s eyes were hidden behind the fire shining on the lenses of his spectacles. His head turned once more to the books on the floor. Link picked him up and slung him over his shoulder again. Like a child, Shad went limp, though Link fancied he was reaching for another book.

He climbed onto the window ledge, wincing as the heat roared up. Beyond, in the street, he saw the soldiers milling, and he saw Zelda, in her pale gown, pointing, her mouth open in an unheard scream, firelight glinting on her armoured shoulders. Even from this distance, he could see her eyes, wide and furious and insane. He swung out, holding onto Shad, and gripped the roof above. He hauled himself up, air hissing through his teeth as the fire billowed, licking at his boots. He scrambled up and crawled along until they were at the top. The tiles were scorching under his hands.

“Now,” Link said, looking around. “We need to-“

His words were cut off as a section of roof collapsed, sending fire gouting into the sky. He yelped as a piece of burning timber landed on his shoulder, swiping it away and slapping at the embers. Without another word, he hefted Shad and ran along the roof, feeling the tiles crack and give under his feet. The fire roared, and he could feel the roof giving way under him, each step just a little lower than before. He stumbled, crashing to his knees as the roof gave out, and he felt himself swing into empty air. He snatched for the tiles as the fire seared him, snarling, until he could pull himself out. There was no more time.

With a desperate shout, he hurled himself into the air, sailing over the edge of the roof as it collapsed completely below him, fire exploding outward, pushing him on through the air, Shad hanging limply over his shoulder.

He hit the ground in the back garden hard, rolling over on his shoulder and to his feet, Shad splayed on the flagstone. Link paused a moment, then yelped and threw himself back to the ground, writhing, beating at the flames licking his tunic. It was no good, it was spreading, the bite of the fire sharp against his skin. Shad’s shirt began to smoulder as embers fell upon him. As the building swayed above them, Link grabbed Shad by the collar and hurled him towards the back of the garden.

With a wordless cry, Link threw them both into the pond. The water was like ice, but it was the best thing he thought he had ever felt, soothing his seared skin. He surfaced, pulling a bedraggled Shad up with him. The scholar gasped and spat water.

Shad took one look at the burning shell of his house and began to weep once more. Helpless, wordless sobs of anguish and loss.

Kneeling in the pond, Link could only hold him as he cried, watching the bookshop burn, blackening timbers groaning as it was gutted by fire. He shivered, the cold settling into his bones nothing to do with the water in which they knelt.

XXXXXXX

Princess Zelda found him as he was hauling Shad over the wall and into the street. Sodden, burned and shivering, he stood quietly as she raged at him, her words sounding like one long, incoherent shriek. He managed to decipher words such as “idiot,” “stupid,” and “dangerous,” as well as many garbled “how dare you”s.

When she paused to draw breath after five solid minutes of screaming, Link raised his hand, and she fell silent as he stared her down.

“Princess, you owe me one favour,” he said, his voice quiet. Zelda grimaced and smoothed her hair.

“Your disobedience tonight-“

“Is irrelevant. You owe me.” He shifted as Shad slumped against him, his shoes dragging along the ground. Zelda narrowed her eyes.

“You are correct. On my honour, I owe you a favour. Tell me what it is, Ser, so that I can continue my mission.”

Link drew breath and waved a hand at the street, the smoke coiling into the sky, embers floating on the wind, the screams of the townspeople loud on the air.

“Stop this,” he said. “Stop hurting your people. Leave Thoria alone, she’s done nothing wrong. Search your heart, Princess. You know it’s true. And…” he paused. “Let me go. I want no further part in this. I need to go home.”

Zelda watched him impassively as he spoke, and when he finished, her eyes softened.

“Oh, my Link. You were ever selfless, ever caring.” She smiled. “I would grant you your favour.”

Link released his breath in an explosive gasp. He ducked his head and dared to smile. It was over. It was finally over!

“But you asked me _three_ favours,” Zelda said. Link looked up to find her smile was vicious. “You asked me to stop… _this._ ” She imitated his wave. “To leave that witch alone. To… let you go.” She shook her head. “You were offered one favour, and you asked for three. But I am a woman of my word, and will grant you your first.”

She stepped towards him, her guards clanking behind her.

“I shall stop… _this._ I shall return to my castle, where I shall continue my search, and I shall not rest until she is found and brought to justice. And you. You, my dear, Chosen Knight. You will be by my side. You will assist me in my task.”

Zelda turned on her heel and marched away, her guard following.

Link slumped against the wall, Shad mumbling non-words under his breath as he lay limply in the Hero’s arms.

He should have seen it coming. He should have known better. He should have given it more thought before he asked his favour. Now he had nothing, no ammunition in his arsenal.

Wincing as his tunic dragged across his burns, he lifted the scholar once more and half hauled, half carried him through the dark and burning town.

XXXXXXX

“His life’s work,” Telma said, shaking her head. “The poor man.”

Link could only nod as she placed a mug of ale in front of him. Telma’s bar was closed to the public, but she had willingly opened the door for the two men.

Telma draped a blanket around his bare shoulders, his clothes drying by the fire next to Shad’s. The scholar was wrapped in a blanket of his own, lying on one of the low sofas, his eyes closed, his cat curled up on his chest next to Louise.

“I don’t understand why this is happening,” Telma said, easing her bulk into the chair next to Link. “Why is she doing this? Is what Thoria did truly that bad?”

Link didn’t reply. His burns stung, even under the healing ointment Telma had given him. He stared into his mug of ale, the foam a stark white against the dark wood of the bar. He swirled it, and the froth seemed to form a face. Thoria. He squeezed his eyes shut.

“She didn’t seem to be evil,” Telma said, softly. “I never would have guessed. She seemed like such a sweet thing.”

“She is,” Link said. “She’s not evil at all. She wanted to help people, to use her powers for the benefit of everybody. Zelda’s got it all wrong. But she won’t listen.” His breath hitched, and he half-forced a coughing fit to hide the tears in his eyes.

“I know, honey, I know,” Telma said, resting her hand on his shoulder. “It’s a scary time for us all.”

“You should leave,” Link said. “She’ll be coming for you next.”

“I’d like to see her try!” the barwoman sniffed. But her eyes softened as she glanced over at Shad. She sighed. “He’ll need looking after, I suppose. Proper care. I guess I can’t do that when I’m running a bar. Not that there’s been much business of late.”

“You need to be safe,” Link said. “I don’t know if I’ll be here next time.”

Telma glanced at him. “I won’t go running back in here to save my beer, honey. But I get your point. As soon as Shad’s recovered enough to walk by himself, we’ll go to Kakariko.”

“Don’t stay there,” Link warned. He fought off another shiver. He was still cold, but he didn’t want to move closer to the fire. “Warn them what’s happening, tell them to evacuate. Then keep going. Wait for it to all blow over.”

“Mm,” Telma tapped her finger on her lips. “Might look like we’re running.”

“Everyone’s going to run,” Link said, sombrely. “Everyone who can. Even the Twilight Crisis wasn’t this bad. At least people got to keep their homes.”

“What about you?” Telma asked. “Where will you go?”

 _Nowhere without Thoria,_ he thought. Instead, he shook his head.

“My place is here,” he said. “I need to reason with Zelda. She _must_ see sense. She can’t keep burning everything, looking for Thoria.”

“What if you can’t reason with her?” Telma asked.

Link didn’t reply, but his gaze slid to the Master Sword, leaning on the wall next to his shield, glinting in the firelight.

“I have to try,” he said.


	109. 109 - Link

Link rose the following morning after barely an hour’s sleep. He had made his way back to the castle in the small hours, content that Telma would care for Shad, and see them both safely away. Their farewell had been more emotional than he expected, and he imagined the large and gentle barwoman thought that they might not meet again for a while.

He rubbed his face, trying in vain to scrub the exhaustion from his eyes. He would not have returned to the castle that night, were it not for the fact that the king’s funeral was to take place today. Link sighed. He would be expected to attend. He was the princess’s Chosen Knight, after all.

Glancing at the timepiece on the wall, Link grimaced. He had a few hours yet, enough time to get to the kitchens for some food, and perhaps a chat with Mallory before he had to get ready.

He washed quickly and tugged on his tunic, hoping that food would push the last of his tiredness away. He opened his door to find a squadron of eight knights outside his door, each dressed in the armour of the Royal Guard, Zelda’s elite force.

“What the hell is this?” Link demanded, staring at them. “What are you doing here?”

The knights glanced at each other, before one stepped forward.

“Her Highness has requested that we are with you at all times,” he said. “Ser.”

“Why?” Link folded his arms and fixed the men with a stern glare. He may just be a farmer playing at being a Hero, but nonetheless, his station as Chosen Knight gave him position above even Zelda’s Royal Guard. “I don’t need you. Get about your business.”

The knights shuffled. The one in front cleared his throat.

“It’s on her Highness’s orders,” he said. “She… ah. She said your actions the night previous were… uh… worrying. She doesn’t want anything to happen to you. So, we’ve been assigned to protect you.”

Link lowered his brows into a dreadful glare. “I do not need protecting. Go away.”

Two of the knights stepped back. Two, he realised with a jolt, that he had helped train himself only a few years ago. They could not meet his gaze. He peered more closely at their faces, and realised that, except for the man in front of them, he had trained each and every one of them in combat, once upon a time.

“I’m sorry, Ser,” the knight in front raised his eyes to meet Link’s. “But we’ve got our orders. We won’t disturb you, Ser, but we’re to accompany you, and guard your rooms whilst you’re in them. Her Highness doesn’t want you to come to harm, she believes the sorceress might try to-“

Link growled and spun around, slamming the door in the knight’s face. Inside his rooms, he snarled and kicked at the air.

“ _Fucking piece of shit idiot bitch_ ,” he snarled. He was trapped. He could no longer skulk through the castle, searching for Thoria, hoping she would appear. He could not leave without his new entourage, slipping into town to make sure Telma and Shad had left safely. He could not escape the castle to flee to Ordon to raise his own army.

He glared at the floor. He should have used his favour to ask for his own holdings, as Thoria had once suggested. With that, he could have had the beginnings of his own army already. The people of Hyrule loved him. It was something he hated, but now, now he knew its value. They would have flocked to his side to support him in stopping this evil that seeped through the kingdom. All for naught.

His frustration boiled and he slammed his fist into his bedpost, cracking it and splitting the skin on his knuckles. He hissed and spat, cursing the princess, cursing his bad luck, cursing the goddesses and all else besides in a fluent, foul-mouthed stream.

“Wherever did you learn to swear like that?” Thoria said.

Link leapt a foot in the air and turned, clutching his hand. He let loose a soft laugh, suddenly giddy.

“From you,” he said.

Thoria smiled and came to him, wrapping him in a tight embrace. He kissed her, over and over, until she giggled and ducked her head, moving back a pace to gaze at him.

“It seems there’s been a few interesting developments,” she said, glancing at the door, her voice low.

“And then some.” Link winced as he flexed his hand, blood running along the back of it. “Thoria…. I… Castle Town… she…”

Thoria brought him to her again, laying his head on her shoulder. He clutched her tightly, feeling the strange material of her shirt, her long, black hair, the warmth of her body.

“It’s like what Ganon did, centuries ago. I couldn’t help then, I was sleeping. For seven years, while he burned and destroyed everything in his path. I was awake this time. I should have done more, I should have been better.”

“There’s nothing you could have done,” Thoria murmured. “You did all you could.”

He let loose a soft, desperate laugh. He wanted to believe her. He squeezed her tightly, and stepped back, rubbing his face and fixing his gaze on her emerald eyes.

“We’re running out of time. Rhoam’s funeral is today. Zelda’s coronation is tomorrow. She’s got me under a fucking guard, now. I can’t do anything!”

“Hush,” Thoria took his injured hand and raised it to her lips. He felt a cool wave wash over his skin, and when she released him, he saw his skin had knitted back together, without even a scar. Thoria smiled.

“You’re right that we’re running short on time,” she said. “I’ve been scouting Hyrule, looking for somewhere for us, and spying. I don’t know what Zelda’s planning, but I’ll bet my good right hand that it’s not in either of our best interests.” She gave a wry smirk. “Though I don’t think I need to be magic to know that. The sooner we get you out of here, the better.”

Link chuckled softly. “Everything seems so much better when you’re here,” he said, touching her face. “But we don’t have long. I need to go to Rhoam’s funeral. If I’m missed… she’ll know.”

“I know. You’ll need to be at her coronation as well.”

Link nodded. “After that… I should be able to escape. I just need to do something about these fucking guards she’s got outside.”

Thoria twisted her mouth. “I could get you out now,” she said. “There might be a bit of a fight, but we’d be away. You’d be safe.”

Link took half a step towards her, a hope glimmering in his chest. But he stopped, and smothered it. “No. She’d chase us the rest of our lives. She’d punish the people to get to me. I have to go to the funeral. To the coronation. If I pretend I’m loyal, she won’t have reason to hurt innocent people in my place. Then after that… maybe leave it another day, to be safe. After that we can go. She wouldn’t think to look for me for another day or two.”

“I’d have to get rid of them,” Thoria said, nodding at the door. Link shook his head.

“They’re only acting under orders,” he said. “It’s not their fault.”

Thoria sighed. “I suppose. I’d rather not have to hurt anyone. We’ll think of something.”

“Then we’ll leave it three days,” he said. He drew her to him and kissed her, softly. “Then we’ll go. I’ll pack. But we… we can’t leave Hyrule, not yet. We need to stop what she’s doing. It’s madness.”

Thoria touched his cheek. “She won’t stop until I’m dead,” she murmured. “We’re safer away. I can hide myself well enough, but I don’t know if I can hide you the same way. You’d have to be really careful. You could leave her a note, or better yet, fake your own death. I’m sure I can conjure an illusion…” she paused. “Maybe. I’ve never tried.”

Link shook his head. “I have to try to reason with her,” he said. “One last time. If it doesn’t work…” he glanced away, staring out the window at the cool, blue sky. “I pray that it does. I pray that she sees sense. If she can’t see past her own delusions… we can’t leave the people to suffer.”

Thoria met his eyes. Flames seemed to flicker within the green, such was the intensity of her stare.

“If it means you come away with me safely, I’ll do whatever you want. We can worry about the people once you’re out of her grasp.”

Link kissed her again. “We can work that out later. You should go. It’s not safe for you here.”

Thoria nodded. “I know.” She stepped away. “I’ll go. I’ll find somewhere for us, far from here, somewhere we won’t be found, somewhere where we can be hidden, where we can hide other refugees too. I’ll check in on Telma and Shad, I saw them leaving this morning.”

Link looked up. “You did?”

“Yes, before the sun was up. I’ll make sure they get to safety.” She smiled, though it was tinged with sadness. “Here.” She pulled a piece of parchment from her pocket and handed it to him. On it was carefully detailed instruction of how to fold and open parchment a very specific way.

“It might be useful,” she said. “For you and your friends. It’s a way to keep messages hidden. Only people who know how to unfold this will be able to read it, otherwise the parchment will fall apart.”

“That will be useful,” Link said. “Thank you.”

Thoria sniffed and touched his hand. “You better hurry up and get ready. They mustn’t suspect a thing.”

“They won’t.”

Thoria gave a weak smile that trembled as her eyes welled. She raised her hands to her hair and looked away. “You’re so fucking brave. I hate leaving you like this. I’m scared, Link. I’m scared that it won’t work, that she’ll do something to you while I’m gone, that I’ll come back and find you broken. I want you away with me, now.”

Link took her hands, running his thumb over the emerald and gold ring on her finger. He smiled. “I’ll be fine. It’s just a few more days, setting the illusion. She’d hurt people if I ran now.”

She met his gaze again, and he was struck by the passion in her eyes.

“Link, I would tear this realm apart if it meant you would be safe,” she said. “The lives of strangers are nothing compared to what you mean to me. But they matter to you. Therefore, they matter to me.”

Link smiled, gently. “You terrify me. But in the right way. If I had your fire, Hyrule would never suffer again.”

She chuckled. “You don’t need it. You’re the calm to my passion.”

“And you’re the light to my dark,” he murmured. “Please, Thoria. You need to leave. If they see you… I have to be convincing. I have to make this work. I have to try, one last time.”

Thoria nodded. “I know. But I don’t like it. I want you safe.”

“I will be in three days,” he said. He drew her close and kissed her again, brushing her face with his fingers. “I love you, Thoria.”

“And I love you,” she murmured, and smiled. “ _Husband_. Three days. I’ll be here when the sun sets.” She stepped back, her fingers trailing along his hand until they parted. Link ducked his head, his eyes filling. When he looked up, Thoria had gone.

XXXXXXX

Dressed in an elegant black suit, Link stood at Zelda’s shoulder in the Throne Room, Impa on her other side, gazing down at King Rhoam’s coffin.

It was a truly beautiful thing, he thought. The coffin was made of gorgeously carved pine wood, polished and sculpted until it shone. He did not need Thoria’s wisdom to know that pine meant peace, and he offered a silent prayer to the goddesses that the old king was indeed at peace.

The coffin was raised above the marble floor, the makeshift alter adorned with an abundance of lilies and white chrysanthemums, sprigs of basil, pale magnolia and white poppies.

The chamber was filled with nobles and knights alike, the former dressed in their finest black silks, the soldiers and guards in their armour, sporting black capes. His own Royal Guard stood at the foot of the steps leading to the throne, and Zelda’s larger, personal guard stood opposite. The air was heavy with grief, and Link found it hard to maintain his neutral expression.

King Rhoam had been a hard man, he knew. He had been stoic and unbending in his belief in the laws of the land. He had been cool and calculating, and were it not for his illness, he would have been the strongest king Hyrule had ever known. Link remembered his time as a child, how Hyrule had been prosperous, protected, safe, until he fell ill.

He swallowed and looked at his feet. It was not just the death of the king that hurt so. It was what it meant. The last threads of the safe net beneath him had frayed with his passing, and a bottomless chasm yawned under his feet. Now, more than ever, he had to be alert, he had to be careful, he had to act as though his life depended on it, for surely it did. And if not his life, then the lives of the common folk depended on his ability to pretend, just for a few days.

It was not a a war he was used to. His fights had been both loud and silent, fighting in dark caves and on sunlit clouds, sword in hand, his strength ans skill on his side. This battle was new. This battle was different. And it was one of the most dangerous and frightening things he had known in years.

He chanced a look at Zelda. She was all in black, her veil covering her the front of her face. But from where he stood, he could see her profile clearly. Her cheeks were dry, and her eyes were hard.

An elderly Priest of Hylia came forth, dressed in pale robes lined and sashed with royal purple. He carried a thurible and staff, both wrought of gold. He motioned with the staff, and six of the Royal Guard approached the coffin, lifting it onto their shoulders. They began to walk the length of the Throne Room, heading for the doors. Zelda fell into step behind the coffin, Link and Impa behind her, shoulder to shoulder.

As they left the castle, stepping into bright, cold sunshine, Link threw a glance at the Sheikah, surprised to see tears flowing freely from her red eyes, sliding beneath her collar. She made no sound, and Link half-raised his hand, wanting to pat her shoulder, to grip her forearm, to comfort her. He resisted. She would probably break his arm for drawing attention to her distress.

The procession made its slow way along the mile between the castle and the town. Behind him, he could hear the nobility sniffling, snuffling, openly sobbing. He drew a soft breath and steeled himself as they entered Castle Town.

Link stared in horror at the wreckage. A third of the buildings in the square had been completely gutted, the black and twisted spires of wood stabbing at the air. More than half the remaining homes and shops were damaged, blackened and scorched. The scent of smoke still hung on the air beneath a grey and smoky sky.

In the alleys, in doorways, and in the square itself were the people of Castle Town. All were dressed in black, or in as dark a clothing as they had been able to source. They watched the procession with guarded eyes, in silence. Some faces were stained with tears, though if it was for the loss of their king or their homes, Link didn’t know. He stared out at them, the people he was sworn to protect, and their eyes sought his.

He swallowed, knowing that he was to run, knowing that he was going to leave them behind, to leave them alone to face whatever lunacy Zelda indulged in next.

 _Not for long,_ he promised himself, praying that they could hear his unspoken words, see the truth in his eyes. _I will come back. I’ll come back for you all, with an army, to save you. This won’t last forever, I promise. But I have to leave. I have to._

Their expressions did not change. Hylians could not read minds, after all. But as the long train of nobles and soldiers wound through the town, Link watched as a woman raised her hand to the charred remains of a shop, running three fingers along the blackened wood. She touched her face, drawing three black lines down her cheek. Link peered at her, and watched as the other townsfolk imitated her gesture, taking soot from the blackened wood of destroyed shops and houses, or from the stains on their homes, and dragging it along their faces, drawing three black lines beneath their eyes, standing silently as the coffin of King Rhoam moved amongst them.

Their eyes found his, and Link was burned by their gaze. He lowered his head. He could not fail them again. He cast another look at Zelda, her shoulders straight, her steps small and dainty. He had to speak with her, to try to make her see.

The procession reached the Temple of Hylia, rising up the short steps and entering into the cold interior. Link had only been inside once before, to receive his honour as the Hero of Twilight, and his new title of Chosen Knight.

The ceiling was still high and vaulted, the benches made of bleached wood, the stained glass windows throwing washes of colour along the floor. The elderly priest led the coffin to the very front of the temple, where the Royal Guard laid it upon an alter adorned with flowers and finery.

Zelda took his hand and led him to one of the benches at the very front. He flinched, but kept his arm still, allowing her fingers to lace through his own. He must pretend. In front of the entire nobility and half the sodding kingdom, he must pretend. For the sake of the people. For Thoria’s sake. For his own.

Throughout the long and tedious service, in which the priest warbled about the goodness and might of King Rhoam, Zelda held tight to his hand. She did not weep as the priest waxed lyrical about all the good Rhoam had done for Hyrule, installing revolutionary sewers, creating new jobs for the populous, building the orphanage and more. She did not weep as she rose to speak of her father, the domineering yet kindly man she had known, the intelligent and brave king who weathered his illness with grace until the end. She did not weep as she returned to his side, and gave him a gentle smile that he did not return.

She clutched his hand all through the remainder of the service, as the priest droned on, and Impa and nobles rose to speak of their departed king. Link began to fidget as the service neared its fourth hour, but finally, it was over.

Link made a curt excuse as they began to file out of the temple, slipping outside and around the back, drawing deep breaths of ashy air. Here he stayed, waiting for the procession to leave the town, longing for the company of a strong ale.

He glanced up as a hooded figure sidled around the side of the temple. Link raised his hand to his Sword, stepping away from the wall. The figure stopped a few feet from him, and lowered his hood. Link let out his breath in a whoosh.

“Auru,” he said, hurrying forward and taking the older man’s hands in his own. “It’s been too long.”

“Years,” Auru replied. The lines on his weathered face were deeper than Link remembered, and his beard had grown down to his chest. “I received word from Telma last night, and came immediately.” He released Link’s hands and threw a dark look about the quiet temple grounds. “I do not like what I have come home to find.”

Link grimaced. “Nor I. What did Telma say?”

“That she is calling the resistance once more, and that we are to meet in Kakariko as soon as is possible,” Auru said. “I thought it best to stop here first, to get a measure of the threat that we face. I must admit, I feel this is more severe than before.”

Link nodded. “It seems that way.” He straightened. “Auru, I won’t mince my words. Hyrule is in danger, and not from any evil magics or sorceress. Zelda herself has… has…”

“Lost her marbles?” Auru offered, helpfully.

Link managed a smile. “Yes. I… I hope to be able to reason with her, to make her see sense, to stop what is happening. But if I can’t… if I fail… there needs to be a second plan.”

Auru nodded. “The resistance rides again. Do you have any suggestions?”

Link nodded. “Get as many people as you can. Men who can fight, families… children. Once you are together, ride for Ordon. Make camp in Faron woods, as deep as you can go. Rusl will be able to help you. Keep yourselves safe as your priority, build your defences. I’ll join you as soon as I’m able, or send word to you as soon as I can. I hope it won’t be longer than a few days.”

Auru gave a single, stiff nod. “The plan?”

“I… I’m not sure,” Link said. “It depends on whether I can make Zelda see sense or not. But Thoria will be with me, no matter what. She’ll help us. She’s the best chance we’ve got at ending this.”

“Should we anticipate a fight?”

“I hope not. But we should prepare, just to be safe. Gather as many people as you can, even if it’s just to get them away from here.”

Auru studied him. "You put yourself in mortal peril, Link. You may not survive."

Link nodded. "I know."

Auru nodded again, and offered his hand. “It will be done. I’m sorry that it’s come to this, Link.”

“As am I.” Link gripped his hand. “Thank you.”

Auru bowed, and raised his hood, slipping around the side of the temple and vanishing.

Link sighed and slid down the wall, coming to sit in the damp, spring grass.

He knew the task ahead of him was great, perhaps greater than any he had faced before. The back of his hand itched, and he scratched it idly. No matter what happened, he must keep the people of Hyrule safe, and he had to save Thoria.


	110. 110 - Zelda

The princess of Hyrule sat before her dresser, her eyes closed, as Impa brushed her hair. She smiled, her head tilted back, relishing the feel of the soft bristles against her scalp, the soft hushing sounds the brush made as it ran through her hair.

For the first time, Impa was not alone in her attentions. A maid knelt to either side of the princess, massaging her palms and filing her nails, rubbing a moisturising potion that smelled of cherry into her hands. A third knelt by her feet, lifting them gently from a bowl of warm, blossom scented water, rubbing a pumice stone over them and massaging her skin.

Zelda kept her eyes closed, enjoying the weight of a cool, rhododendron compress on her face. The sweet fragrance filled her with anticipation, and she fought not to wriggle in her seat, to bounce about and squeal with joy.

In mere hours, she would be crowned as the Queen of Hyrule. And as queen, there was no force in the realm that would stop her. She would find the sorceress and protect her people. She would have her darling by her side, as her king, and he would serve her as she served him. Hyrule would become the utopia she had always dreamed of. Her smile widened under the compress. The revolution to come would see her kingdom enter a time of joy that would be sung about for centuries.

Impa’s fingers began to work through her hair, teasing it into braids, when a gentle knock sounded. Zelda listened as Impa moved away, hearing hushed voices. Soon, her aide’s comforting presence was behind her once more.

“Ser Link has requested an audience with you, your Highness,” Impa murmured. “He is waiting outside.”

Zelda felt her body tingle all over, and she all but grinned. “What does he want?”

“He did not say, only that he wishes to speak with you in private.”

Zelda sighed gently. “Oh, how very dear of him. I would love to see him. However.” She raised a hand as Impa made to move away. “I am in no fit state to be seen by my Chosen Knight. I will speak with him after my coronation, when I am not quite so… unfinished.”

“As you wish.” Impa’s hands left her head. Zelda listened, frowning as Impa and Link murmured together, just outside her hearing. Her frown deepened as Link’s voice became audible, almost desperate.

“Impa, please!”

The door closed with a decisive click, and then warm hands were back in her hair, massaging her scalp, winding the braids into an intricate pattern.

“He sounded like he really wanted to see me,” Zelda said, with a soft smile. Impa did not reply.

“No matter,” Zelda continued. “He shall have all of my time soon enough.”

She smirked. Perhaps the sorceress’s spell had finally broken. He had never before asked for her audience, coming to her only when ordered, or when it was expected of him. She shivered, a warmth condensing in her abdomen. Now he wanted to see her, she decided it would be best to make him wait. It was only proper, after all. He would be all the more happy to see her when he finally did.

Soon, her hands and feet were dry, her hair finished, and the compress removed. Zelda sat straighter and rose, allowing Impa and her maids to remove the silken robe she wore, and dress her in her coronation gown.

It was a beautiful thing of purple silk and white ermine. The accompanying cloak was long, and ancient. It had been passed down, mother to daughter, for centuries. It was fraying around the edges somewhat, but as it was pinned to her shoulders, Zelda smiled. The might of a never ending line, the power of divine blood, the sheer _rightness_ of it was palpable. Zelda could almost taste it, like a rich, honeyed wine.

At last, she turned and looked at herself in the mirror. She smiled. She looked every image of a princess.

No.

She looked every image of a queen.

Zelda walked the length of Hyrule castle, her heels small and clicking on the stone floor. She met no guards, no soldiers, no servants. All were awaiting her, with her court, her nobility, in the Throne Room. She kept her head held high, her back straight. She was so happy she felt that, if the mood took her, she could rise from the floor and float the rest of the way.

Impa and her maids trailed behind her. Impa carried the edge of her cloak, protecting it from the cold stone of the floor. It was warm on her shoulders, the ermine collar of her gown tickling her neck most delightfully.

Zelda paused at the doors of the Throne Room. She tilted her head back and took a breath, smiling all the while. This was it. Her last few moments of being a princess. She felt as though she were a caterpillar, about to enter her chrysalis form. And once her coronation was concluded, she would emerge, a beautiful butterfly, her final, complete, most perfect self.

She could hear voices within, the soft, droning buzz of hundreds of hushed tones. Her smile widened, and she raised a hand, her triforce glowing. The doors opened before her, and she took her first steps inside, as a hush fell over the crowd within.

The Throne Room was packed. It seemed as though every person in Hyrule with even a hint of peerage in their blood had come to see her crowned, and as many commons that could be fit had been squeezed in. Those of lesser importance were relegated to the back of the hall, no one worth bothering about. Their faces were hollow, their eyes blank, following her with all the automation of a trained dog that did not understand why it had been asked to sit. Zelda ignored them, focusing on the happier faces further along.

As she made her way down the centre, she watched as the wealth and power of those surrounding her grew.

Towards the front were her suitors, those lords deemed worthy enough to have a chance at her hand in marriage. Her council was there too. And him. Her darling. Her Chosen Knight. He was buried in the crowd, but Zelda knew him by his clothes, picking him out amongst the finery. His guard surrounded him, subtle in the crowd, protecting her love from the dangers of the world. Protecting him from his own foolishness.

All eyes were upon her as she ascended the short steps to the throne. She faced it, then turned at last to face her subjects.

The elderly priest of Hylia began to speak, his reedy voice carrying in the stillness. He spoke of the honour of royalty, of the divinity of the blood of house Hyrule, the sacred right of her rule. He warbled a little on the history of the realm, and how it was her ancestors who made the kingdom what it was.

And at last, it was time. The priest spoke again.

“Do you, your Grace, solemnly swear to uphold the laws and justice of the Kingdom of Hyrule, to govern the peoples therein, to use your power to maintain the might of the Goddesses Divine and be merciful in all your rulings?”

Zelda folded her hands before her. “I swear by the might of my blood.”

“Do you, your Grace, promise to protect the peoples of this kingdom, to rule in their favour, pass fair and lawful judgement upon them?”

“I promise by the right of my heritage.”

“Do you, your Grace, vow to hold Hylia in your heart and follow her teachings, leading the kingdom into prosperity, to fell the foes of the realm, to perform your duties in justness and right?”

Zelda smiled. “I vow by the wisdom of my Triforce.”

The priest bowed his head. He turned to a pedestal, upon which was a purple, velvet cushion, stitched in gold, adorned with golden tassels. Upon this was her crown. Her father’s crown. Her grandfather’s crown. Her great-grandmother’s crown. The crown that had sat atop the heads of every monarch of Hyrule to date. The priest took it reverently in his papery hands, and turned to her as she lowered herself to sit upon her throne.

“Then, by the power, courage and wisdom granted unto me by the Divines, their Mightinesses Din, Farore, and Nayru, by the love of the Goddess Hylia, and the light of the four spirits, I crown thee, Zelda, eighty-seventh of her name, Queen of Hyrule.”

He laid the crown upon her head, and the Throne Room exploded with sound. Zelda sat back as cheers and applause washed over her, closing her eyes, bathed in the adoration of her subjects. Her smile was soft, and her heart swelled.

Before the eyes of divinity and mortal man, she was queen. _She was queen!_ She shivered as power surged through her, and it felt for a moment as though great, strong hands were on her shoulders, supporting her, comforting her, praising her. She would have thought them her father’s hands, were they not so large and strong.

As the applause began to die down, Zelda rose from her throne, raising her hands for silence. It fell almost instantly.

“My fellow Hylians,” she said, her voice carrying. “I cannot express the joy I feel at being crowned at last. I know we have all long awaited this day, when a truly strong monarch would come to the throne once again.”

There was a smattering of applause, and a few nobles glanced at each other. Zelda smiled.

“I know we all loved my father,” she said, raising a hand to her breast. “May the Goddesses grant unto him eternal peace. But we all know he suffered, and in his suffering, was unable to rule effectively.” She took a step forward. “In this time, we suffered in his absence from the throne. Old laws, archaic and outdated, allowed our commoners to be exploited. Threats were left unchecked. The Twilight came to Hyrule because my father was not there to stop it.” She paused again, her eyes seeking her Hero. He was half hidden behind General Balla, his eyes on the floor.

“Now I am queen, I vow that such suffering will not continue,” she said. “We have all suffered through the Twilight, and now we suffer a new threat, a threat of darkness, a threat of unknown, secretive magic! I know you may find my measures harsh in seeking her, but I promise you, my people, that they are necessary. For without them, the sorceress would continue to sow malice throughout the land. These measures are necessary to save you all!

“It is through the vile sorceress that has infested my kingdom that my people suffer! It is through her dark power that crops wither and die, that people grow sick and crippled, that monsters roam our borders!” she raised a fist. “Well, I say to you, my subjects, my people, I say to you, no more! No more will this wretch curse you so, for I, as your queen, will see such threats banished from the realm for good!”

Light cheers met her statement.

“With my coronation,” she continued, “We see the dawn of a new era of Hyrule. No more shall my people suffer, I shall draft new laws that oust the old, draconian way of life, and bring in a new way of living, a life of prosperity and comfort for all!”

The cheers were louder this time.

“I shall begin by abolishing the wheat tax,” she announced. “No more will our farmers have to pay to sell us the food we eat!”

The cheers from the commoners at the back of the Throne Room dwarfed the polite applause of the nobility. Zelda smiled. They were such a simple folk, so easily pleased. Her smile widened.

“I have one final announcement to make,” she said, and felt her heart swell. This was it. This was the moment that would make it all worth it. All her suffering, all her pain, every snipe and backstab and snide look that she had endured. She allowed her demure smile to broaden even further, and she drew herself up.

“I have, at last, chosen a suitor, and our wedding shall be tomorrow, at noon,” she said, to murmurs of interest from the attending crowd. “Long have I deliberated, and I have met many a fine man, all of whom are worthy. But in the end, a choice had to be made.” She paused, relishing the knowledge that the crowd was hanging onto her every word. She scanned the faces below her. Lord Resper was standing with his hands behind his back, a pathetic hope in his old eyes. Lord Froal tugged at his flopping, lacy collar. Lord Symper studied his nails. Lord Dool stood loosely, his arms folded, his head cocked at a jaunty and arrogant angle. Zelda let her eyes rest on him.

“My suitor is a man of many talents,” she said, her voice ringing. “A man who has proven himself time and again. A man whom we all know, and love.”

Her eyes sought him, her chosen one. He was buried in the crowd, his shoulders hunched, his head held low. He did not meet her gaze. Ever deferential. Ever polite. He would no longer have to be.

“Through my own divine power, I have sought to change the laws of the kingdom, to better serve you all,” she said, her heart swelling once more, so much so that it seemed she might burst with happiness. “For the good of the kingdom, the Triforces of Wisdom and Courage will unite once more, and see an end to the destruction that vile sorceress has wrought upon our land!”

She raised a hand, her fingers curling inward, until only her index remained, stretching out, lowering, pointing.

“My husband shall be none other than my Chosen Knight, Ser Link of Ordon,” she said. And she laughed in delight as the throne room erupted with sound. Cheers and whoops and applause drowned out Dool’s furious shout. As the nobility threw their hands in the air, and the commons screamed their excitement, Zelda sought his eyes once more, beaming with pride and joy.

Link stood alone in the chaos, as still as a statue. And through her rapturous bliss, through her joy, through her ecstasy, even Zelda could not fail to miss the dread on his face.


	111. 111 - Link

Link paced in his rooms, running his hands through his hair. His heart had not stopped racing since he had managed to escape the Throne Room, winding through the hubbub and out, stumbling towards the front doors. But his guard had surrounded him, shepherding him away, herding him as he had once herded goats, in what felt like another lifetime. There was nowhere to go but back up to his rooms, where he was trapped.

His breath hissed painfully through his teeth. He had found his door guarded by no less than ten additional royal knights, and on his balcony, he saw ten more standing watch, five on each balcony to either side of his. All armed, all alert.

His pack lay half-full on the floor. What was the point in filling it now? He was doomed. He could not escape. Thoria would not return until tomorrow night, and by then, it would be too late. By noon, his fate would be sealed.

He let out a desperate cry and fell to his knees.

“Hylia, save me,” he prayed. “Din, Farore, Nayru, Goddesses of old. Please. I’m begging you. Help me.”

They did not answer.

“Shade?” he whispered, a desperate hope burning within him. “Hero of Time. Soul of my soul.” He clasped his hands and laid his head upon them, his teeth bared, his eyes screwed shut.

“ _Please_.”

There was silence.

With a snarl, he leapt up and drew the Master Sword. He could fight his way out. He could take ten royal knights with ease. He could take twenty, thirty of them! He could still escape. He faced the door, his teeth bared, his Sword held high. But his hand lowered, the energy leaving him.

What would Zelda do if he slaughtered her guard? She would not harm him, she would murder or maim an innocent citizen instead, or dozens of them! One for each knight he killed. He dropped the Sword and fumbled in his pouch, drawing out the clawshot. If he was quick, he could leap off the balcony and latch onto something. With both clawshots, he could swing across the grounds and be out before anyone knew what was happening. Surely, she wouldn’t hurt anyone if he wasn’t there to witness it!

But what about Thoria? Would she know where to find him? And what was the guarantee that the knights wouldn’t just shoot him down? Zelda no longer needed a Chosen Knight, after all. She only needed him alive. A crippled king could still rule.

It was all happening too fast. He should have had longer, at least another day! Why could Zelda not have waited another blasted day?

“Why does my pain amuse you so?” he snarled at the ceiling. “Why must you three torment me each waking moment? What did I ever do to deserve this? Was I not your loyal servant? Did I not risk my life over and over for the sake of this kingdom? Don’t I deserve some good in my life?”

Only silence answered him.

Link took a steadying breath. Prayer did nothing. Anger did nothing. Only action would save him now. But what action could he take that would save him from what was to come? There was no reasoning with the princess… the queen, now. He shuddered. Dark times had indeed befallen the kingdom of Hyrule. But it was not because of Thoria.

He sighed, and his gaze fell back to the Master Sword, discarded on the carpet. He bent and picked it up, cradling the shining blade.

There was always a way. He swallowed. The blade was long and sharp, so sharp that he could use it to shave, and he never had to grind the edge with a whetstone. The point was so acute it could slide into an enemy before it knew what had happened. The Sword that Seals the Darkness. Evil’s Bane. The Master Sword. It cut through monsters like butter. Would it cut him the same?

Gingerly, Link turned the blade until the edge rested on his collarbone. A quick movement, and that is all it would take. He took it away and laid the point against his chest. He could fall, and his aim would be true, his heart pierced so that even his true wife could not save him. It would be over. He would not have to suffer any more. No more nightmares. No more pain. No more lurking shadows. No more maniacal queen, no more monsters.

No more Thoria.

He flung the sword away, where it sliced cleanly through the quilt on his bed, coming to rest in a soft shower of feathers at the head. He clenched his fists to hide the trembling in his fingers.

No. He could not. He had to see her again. And what would she think, if she returned, only to find him dead? She would be devastated. Broken. She would blame herself for not coming fast enough. It was the coward’s way out. And for all that he feared in his life, he was no coward.

Link slid down the wall as the sky continued to darken. He did not sleep. As the night wore on, he chanted her name under his breath, willing her to come back, pushing all his energy into his voice, until his whispered words thudded within him like a heartbeat.

_Thoria._

_Thoria._

_Thoria._

_Please._

XXXXXXX

Impa found him slumped against the wall the next morning, his eyes hollow and unseeing. Thoria had not come.

“Ser Link,” the Sheikah’s voice was soft, almost sorrowful. “I have brought your outfit.”

Link didn’t look up. His absent gaze was on his hands. For the last few hours, his mind had begun an unwilling countdown, ticking off each hour, each minute, each second.

“You should shave,” Impa said. “Her High… her Grace likes a clean shaven face.” Link did not move.

Impa came further into the room, the door clicking closed behind her. There was a soft noise, one of cloth being laid on wood, and her feet appeared in his vision. Then her shins, her knees, her thighs, as she sat before him, crossing her legs.

“I am sorry,” she said. “I know this is not what you want.”

At last, Link raised his head. Impa had unbuttoned her collar, allowing it to hang below her ear. Her red eyes were downcast, and her mouth was sad. “I tried to reason with her. She did not listen.”

“She won’t.” Link’s voice was cracked and dry. “What do I do?”

“Your duty,” Impa said, solemnly. She rose and poured a glass of water, placing it by his hand, returning to her seat opposite him. “We all must do things in life that are arduous. Being a monarch is one of the most difficult tasks the Divines can set you, and her Grace will need guidance. But… I believe you are up to the challenge.”

Surprised, Link blinked up at her, and found her smiling. It was a soft, small smile, a mere upward turn of the lips, but it seemed that this was the first warmth the Sheikah had ever shown to him, in all the years he had served as Chosen Knight.

“Link. I know this is hard. I know that this is the last thing that you want. I know that you love another, one who… has, in all truth, done nothing to warrant such hostility.” Impa tilted her head.

“For the kingdom to prosper, we need your strength. We need your courage. You will make a fine king, Ser,” she said. “For the good of the realm, please. Do your duty. And don’t make me shave you. These are the last few hours I have to enjoy when my station is above yours, after all. I wouldn’t want to waste them.” The ghost of a laugh crept into her voice, and she rose. Link kept his gaze on the pale green carpet as she rose.

At the door, Impa paused.

“For what it’s worth, I am sorry,” she said. “I am sorry I did not see the truth of things. My love for Zelda…” she stopped and shook her head. “My regret means nothing. But I will support you. You have my undying loyalty, your Grace.”

And she left, closing the door softly behind her.

 _Your Grace_. In a few hours he would not just be married, but crowned. His stomach roiled, and he took a breath. Every fibre of his being protested against the thought.

He rose at last, rubbing the ache out of his back. The clothes Impa had brought were fine things indeed. They were beyond fine, they were immaculate. The deep purple robes looked to be spun of a thread softer than silk, finer than spiderweb, more costly than diamond. The ermine collar was exquisite. He threw off a shiver. He did not touch them. The thought of wearing them, flouncing through the castle for all to see in such garments repulsed him.

He glanced out of the window again. He could still do it. He could run. He could still raise an army and march on the castle, he could still save Hyrule from the tyranny of the mad queen.

But raising an army would take months, years, even if he managed to escape unharmed and was able to hide. The people would suffer whilst he was gone. Zelda would kill citizens to punish him. And his army would be nothing compared to the royal army, especially if it was bolstered with the power of the artefact, if Zelda ever learned how to use it. If he knew the queen at all, he knew she would kill a person a day until he returned. His absence would mean their pain.

He put his head in his hands. How could he ever have thought of running? What kind of Hero would he be if he turned tail and fled at the first sign of danger? How could he dare to wear the Tunic of Legend if all he thought of was himself, his wants, his needs? Those who relied on him to keep them safe deserved better.

There was only one true way to end the suffering of the people of Hyrule. He knew it in his bones. He knew it as surely as he had known it eons ago, when Zelda first began her reign of terror. She had won. It was not Ganon that he stood against, now. Not Ganon that threatened the kingdom, not Ganon who was coercing him into pain and suffering. The queen was wise indeed, for she had found the one way that would ensure he went, if unwillingly, to her side.

He looked to his Sword again. The dark thought that had crossed his mind in Telma’s bar surfaced once more. To commit regicide would mean instant death, and a gruesome one at that. It would be worth it, but he would have to be careful. He could not stab his… bride… on their wedding night and expect to get away with it. Such thoughts were pointless. To leave Hyrule without a true heir with the blood of Hylia would surely mean worse for the kingdom than what they were currently suffering.

He took a breath. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad. Surely, there were worse things. Link couldn’t think of any, but he was sure there were. And perhaps, once the queen was satisfied… bile rose in his throat and he pushed it down. Once the queen was happy, perhaps he could work on her accepting Thoria. Perhaps she could come back. And then, one day, they could run, or rule together…

He knew such thoughts were foolish. If he went ahead and wed the queen, the people would be saved, but she would never let him go. He would never see Thoria again. It was a choice he had never imagined making. Choosing between the one woman he had loved, wholly and completely, and who had loved him in return, or choosing to save the realm.

He was a Hero. He had to do what was right. Even if what was right was signing his life away to an eternity of misery.

He had two hours left. His stomach cramped with hunger, but he did not want to eat. He lowered himself to sit at his desk, and brought forward parchment and ink. He dug into his secret drawer and brought out Shad’s Ancient Hylian translator. He balanced it in his hand a moment, before deciding against it. It would take too long to translate what he had to say, and the princess would be able to read it. Best he write in his own hand, with his own words.

_Thoria._

_Where do I begin? I do not know. I only ask that you do not blame yourself. By the time you read this I will be unwillingly wed and crowned. There is nothing more you can do. As much as it pains me to say it, I have to do this. I cannot allow the people to suffer. This is the only way I can protect them, and curb Zelda’s madness. With equal power to hers, I can try to bring about the utopia you once spoke of. The people would listen to me above her, especially now._

_I could write a book on how much I will miss you, how much you mean to me. I could fill a library with volumes filled with how much I love you. But I fear I have not the time. You will always be in my mind, and forever in my heart. I will never forget you, and never forget the light you brought to my dark life._

_My true wife. My eternal love._

_I can only thank you for everything you have ever done for me. Now I ask you this one last favour. Run. Run, and do not look back. Go home if you can. Do not come for me. I have accepted my fate, and will strive to better the kingdom, as you would have done. But I can only endure if I know you are safe._

_Please. For the love that you bear me. Leave Hyrule and do not look back. And remember always that you will forever be in my heart._

_I love you. When a thousand years have passed and the world is naught but ash, remember._

_I love you._

It too the better part of an hour before Link was able to dry his eyes. He dug in the false drawer again and brought out Thoria’s diary. He flipped through the pages until he found her flowers, pressed between them. He took the red tulip and placed it on the parchment with a match, folding it the way she had given him, memorised from her instructions and then burnt. If anyone but she or he tried to open it, the parchment would tear and shred away to nothing. Such a clever way of folding parchment. What else was there that she could have taught him? What else of Hyrule could he have shown her?

He dipped his finger in wax and smudged it across the front of the parchment. Anyone else might think it scrap. Thoria would know. He propped it against the back of his desk as several sharp raps came at his door. His heart lurched, and he felt momentarily dizzy.

“Five minutes,” he managed to croak. He stumbled to his feet and cast a wild look about his room. Wasn’t it always the way, in stories, that some unknown saviour would arrive at the last minute? Didn’t the hero of the tale always find a way to defeat evil and escape traps, just at the moment where it seemed all hope was lost?

No one came, and there was nothing to aid him that he had not already tried. This was real life, after all. Happy endings were not for the likes of him.

He picked up his hat as his door was rapped again. He ran a hand over his bristly jaw, the hair more whiskers than stubble. He tightened his greaves. He picked up the Master Sword and slid it into its sheath, before laying it back on the bed with his shield and weapons pouch. He ran a hand over them, caressing the metal, touching the leather. He would never adventure again. He felt a pang of loss at the thought. His adventures had been hard, and dark, and full of pain, but there _was_ a thrill to them. A sense of freedom, a sense of purpose. A sense of what made him who he was.

He glanced in the mirror. A haunted face looked back at him, hollow-eyed, bearded, exhausted. A man who had given up. He thought of Thoria and the reflection seemed for a moment to be ten years younger. He smiled, gently. He would always have the memories. Though he would rather die than be parted from her, it seemed destiny had other plans for him.

Three deliberate bangs sounded, hard against wood. Link straightened his shoulders and rolled his head from side to side. He let out a short, sharp breath, and opened the door.


	112. 112 - Link

Councillor Llewellyn cast a disapproving eye over Link’s tunic and unshaven face. The twenty knights at his back stood to attention.

“Ser,” he said. “That outfit, whilst iconic, is _most_ inappropriate. You are to be wed, and crowned. You must change. You are already late.”

Link stared the councillor down with a flat, hard glare.

“If I am to become your king,” he said, in a voice as cold as ice. “You would do well to not tell me what to do.”

Llewellyn took a step back.

“You are not my king yet,” he muttered. “On your head be it. Her Grace will be most disappointed.”

“I wonder what that feels like.” Link said. He turned and strode down the corridor. He kept his back straight, his head held high, his expression blank. The servants he passed bowed to him, and he did not look at them. He couldn’t. He could not break his mask, this false armour that he wove about himself. Each movement of his body strengthened it, drawing his mind further and further in on itself, shielding him from what was to come. He could do it. He had endured hard times before. He winced as an autumn breeze seemed to flit down the hallway. The clanking of metal behind him resonated through the wide corridor, each footstep echoed twenty times.

At the top of the final staircase, he stopped.

Left lay the path to the Throne Room, where nothing but misery awaited him. Tied to a crazed queen by law and by holy right, he would be truly alone, forced to govern the kingdom, to rule, to sit in stuffy council meetings for the rest of his life, obligated to bed a madwoman that he not only did not love, but abhorred. Forced to stay away from his friends, who already looked to him as some sort of legend. How would he enjoy a quiet evening of laughter and music with them now? Those few that remained, who were not yet in hiding. As king, he could not while away absent days with them as he had in his youth. As king, there was nothing but duty.

As king, he would be escorted everywhere. No more private moments under a softly lit tree, dappled sunlight patterning marble skin. No more furtive chases down dark halls, nor soft steps through an alley to Telma’s bar. No more secret alcoves, hidden behind a tapestry, no more forest dens that spoke of a safety beyond mortal understanding. No more sparring, no more theft of kitchen food, no more delightful sights on the road, described through new eyes. No more Thoria.

He glanced to the right. The great doors stood open, sunlight streaming through. It was the brightest day of the year so far, and it seemed odd, somehow, that the darkest day of his life was so well lit. The sunlight promised warmth, fresh air, _freedom_. Mud on his knees and dust from the road on his clothes. The wind in his hair, his thighs sore from the saddle. Sleeping under the stars, with naught but a blanket and autumn smelling hair to keep him warm.

 _He could still run_. He had no weapons now, but that was of little consequence. He could transform, here and now, and bolt, pelting across the marble floor and out into sunlight. The shock of his transformation would be enough, surely, to buy him the precious seconds he needed to escape?

Surely Thoria would find him. And they could be together, in some faraway land, away from the cycle of blood and pain that the Divines demanded, in their never ending pantomime of epicaricacy.

Llewellyn coughed delicately behind him. The knights clustered, their armour clanking, growing closer. There was no point in running. If he tried, he would be caught, and he could not fight his way free of twenty of Hyrule’s best without his weapons.

And Thoria would not search for him. Once she found his letter, she would leave. She would run. He prayed that she would run.

A steel glove landed on his shoulder, and he flinched, resisting the urge to lash out, to turn on them in a howling storm of pain and fury as he once had, long ago, buried in Hyrule’s darkest temples. He lowered his head. He could not. How would it look if the future king was dragged, kicking and screaming to his wedding and coronation? How could he lead anyone if that was the impression he gave?

He closed his eyes and raised his head. His foot rose, hovered, and landed on the first step.

At the bottom, Link turned left.

The throne room was crowded with soldiers. Link blinked, taken aback. It seemed as though half the army had been squeezed inside, and he saw far more green faces than seasoned. Glancing up, he saw the nobility clustered along the balconies, leaning over the railings, peering down at him. He did not miss their disapproving glares as they took in his attire.

He shivered, and the back of his hand tingled. He walked on, feeling more and more like a man being led to the gallows. The Throne Room was draped in banners of white and purple, with white lilies adorning almost every available surface. Interspersed with these were bouquets of yellow chrysanthemums, black roses, and hemlock. With each step he took, he seemed to leave a little of himself behind, the parts of his soul that made him who he was.

He was not meant to be king. He was a Hero. He was a Knight. He was a soldier. He was a ranch hand. A farmer from Ordon. A parentless boy with a stick for a sword. He did not belong here. His feet dragged, and he tensed his shoulders as shivers ran over his body. He could not stop quivering like a lamb taking its first steps into the cage of a lion. A lioness. A lioness who was looking at him with ravenous hunger.

For that was how Queen Zelda was looking at him.

She was resplendent in a gown of snow white. The skirts were large, the sleeves long, the neck high. A veil was about the back of her head, her hair intricately woven beneath her crown. And she was smiling.

Link stopped before her. He did not bow. Zelda’s smile was different to the smile he had become so used to seeing. Though her eyes roved over him with undisguised lust, it seemed there was something else there as well. A softer something. A genuine happiness that stripped away the lines of madness and left her skin smooth and her eyes bright. She almost looked beautiful.

He swallowed. He still had a chance. A chance to reason with her. Hylian weddings were long and laborious, royal weddings even more so. He could speak with her between the ridiculous ceremonial acts. Ask her to wait. Beg her to reconsider. Let him have one last adventure before he hung up his tunic for good.

“Welcome, one and all,” Zelda spoke, her voice carrying, stilling the murmurs from above. “I know we have all longed for my wedding day, and I can assure you, none have longed for it as much as I have.” She smiled down at Link. “Hyrulean weddings, by tradition, are a sacred thing, visiting the four springs, observing the three acts of power, wisdom, and courage, offering gifts to the betrothed, sacrificing to the Goddesses.” Her smile widened. “But I know my love has no care for such frivolities. Such… _pomp and circumstance_. This shall be a short and simple affair, a breaking of tradition that I hope will signify the great changes to come for our glorious kingdom.”

Link staggered as though he had been punched as appreciative murmurs rippled through the crowd. Using his own words against him to trap him too quickly. His hatred of attention, his disdain for ceremony! This was it. He had to do something. Something, anything! Anything to stop this, to escape these chains!

“Darling, come here,” Zelda said, as the elderly priest appeared, holy book in hand. A crown, _his_ crown, lay on a pedestal behind them.

Link hesitated, but there was a pressure at his back. The Hylian tradition of shepherding the groom to his bride. He shivered harder, fighting the instinct to turn and lash out at those behind him. He dug his heels into the ground. He could resist. Buy himself a precious few seconds.

_Oh Hylia above and Goddesses of Creation please stop this send someone send anyone send a bolt of lightning for all I care just stop this make it stop I don’t want to I don’t want to I don’t want to!_

His prayers went unheard, and he was forced to stand beside the Queen. He leaned away, but Impa was there. She stood behind him, a little to the side, her shoulder against his back.

“Deep breaths,” she said. “It’s for the good of the kingdom. Think of the people.”

The soldiers present moved to form lines against the sides of the chamber as the priest began to warble, his thin, reedy voice barely audible in the vast chamber. He went on about love, about divinity, about royalty, about sacred duty. Desperately, Link stared about the Throne Room. There must be a way out! He could fake a seizure, he could pretend to faint, he could invent a fit of madness, anything to stop this snaking, silent chain that wound itself around his shoulders and weighed him down.

Through it all, Zelda was beaming, happy tears glistening in the corners of her eyes. She gazed at him, seemingly oblivious to his distress.

And then the moment arrived.

“Do you, Queen Zelda, take this man as your husband, to rule by your side, in health and wealth and happiness?”

Zelda let fly a joyous laugh. “I do!”

“Do you so vow to care for this man, and be faithful in all things, and bear his burdens with him?”

“I do!”

“Do you swear before the Goddesses your undying love?”

“I do!”

The nobility above murmured their approval, and the assembled soldiers clanked their spears once on the cold marble floor. The priest turned to Link.

“Do you, Ser Link, take the Queen as your wife, to rule by your side, in health and wealth and happiness?”

Link could not stop shivering. The back of his hand was tingling so much it burned. His chest was tight, and a darkness was gathering at the corners of his vision.

“I…”

Zelda fluttered her eyelashes at him.

“I…”

The nobility peered over the balcony, their stares burning.

“I…”

The hall was silent and still, waiting, holding its collective breath. The darkness was growing, condensing, gathering at the back of the hall.

“I’m sorry,” Link said, bowing his head. “I…”

Zelda screamed.

Link jumped as Impa sprang to her side, his hand flying to the sword that was missing from his back, grasping empty air. The soldiers scrambled for their weapons, and Zelda pointed, a hand to her mouth, to the back of the Throne Room. Link followed her finger, and almost wept.

Thoria was standing at the end of the chamber, leaning against the wall, her arms folded. She was clad all in black, a long cloak about her shoulders, and her eyes were glowing.

“Considering how you’ve all been mad looking for me, I was rather surprised I didn’t get an invitation to this little shindig,” she said. Her voice was soft, but Link heard her as though she were next to him. He let loose a little laugh. She was here! She came! Everything was going to be alright. He felt relief flood his body like light.

One of the soldiers lowered his spear. Thoria shot him a look.

“I wouldn’t,” she said. She pushed herself off the wall and walked forward. The only sound was the clicking of her low heels on the marble. Link stared at her. Her hair seemed to be moving in the absence of wind, and her face was both beautiful and terrible to behold. He shrank back, suddenly afraid. But then she turned her glowing eyes on him and winked. That single movement set his mind at rest. She was still his Thoria. She was putting on a show for them all. He could see beneath her cool exterior. She was as afraid for him as he was for her.

“I have brought a gift for the Queen,” Thoria said. “A peace offering, if you will.” She raised her hand and held out a pandanus leaf. “A gift, and a request. Let us leave here, and we shall not bother you again.”

“I want none of your gifts, and will hear none of your requests!” Zelda spat. Glancing at her, Link saw all traces of happiness were gone. Her mask had fallen, and the demented queen was back. “You come here, after fleeing the queen’s justice, on my wedding day? You shall be executed!”

“Zelda!” Link stepped forward and took her hand. Startled, the queen looked down, then back to him, her eyes shining. Link stared desperately at her. “Zelda,” he said again. “Do you love me?”

“With all my heart,” she said, instantly. “There is nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”

“Then let her go,” Link said. “Let me go. We’ll leave. We’ll never come back to Hyrule. The kingdom will be safe if we-“

“To the black pits with the kingdom,” she hissed, and yanked her glove out of Link’s grasp. “You dare to try and leave me? I have given you so much. You could have stayed a lowly peasant, but I gave you station. I gave you titles. I gave you rooms in my castle, and now I offer you the crown! I have given you everything you want and more!”

“I want Thoria,” he said, quietly. “I’m sorry, Zelda. Truly, I am.” He took her hand again. “I have done a lot of things wrong. I should have told you from the start. That blasted prophecy has made fools of us all. We could have been friends. Thoria could have helped shape the kingdom into a utopia.”

“But you do not want me,” Zelda said, her eyes filling with tears.

Link shook his head. “I’m so sorry.”

Zelda sniffed and rubbed her eyes, smearing her makeup.

“Oh, my Link. I love you so. I would have moved mountains for you,” she said. She smiled up at him, her eyes soft and sad. Link returned her smile, hoping. Praying. “And I know you would have done the same for me, were you not still under her spell.”

She pulled her hand away again and threw back her head.

“Guards!” she screamed. “KILL HER!”

“NO!” Link leapt from the platform as the soldiers swarmed towards Thoria. She raised an eyebrow, and her eyes began to burn. As the soldiers closed in, there was a sound like ceramic striking wood, and ten soldiers flew into the air. The green, untrained soldiers began to whoop as they pressed forward, waving their swords and spears, clattering into one another, their formation broken.

“Thoria!” Link yelled. He dove forward into the fray, throwing soldiers and knights aside. Thoria tossed one over her head and yanked a spear out of another’s grasp, sending a bolt of force into a group of them, bowling them back as though they were nothing more than leaves. He was almost there. He reached for her through the battle, swords and spears flashing all around, the eager, green, untrained soldiers piling over each other to get to her. Injuring each other in their excitement. Guards howled as they were sliced or stabbed by their overeager companions, lashing out in retaliation, hurting each other in their blindness.

He didn’t care that he had no weapons, had no shield, all that mattered was reaching her side.

Thoria sent another four knights skidding across the room, her back to him. She was not killing them, he realised. Only pushing them away. Even now, with her life at stake, she held back.

The path was clear. He shoved aside a young soldier and ran forward.

“Thoria!” he cried.

She turned, her eyes blazing. The fired dimmed as she saw him fighting to get to her, and her eyes returned to normal. They were at once soft, as green as the fields of Hyrule, and intense, burning with a passion so fierce it nearly blinded him. All of it was swept away as dread crossed her face.

Link felt a pinch at his back, just under his left shoulder blade. The pinch became a bite, became a burn, became a searing pain that shot through his chest and burst in front of him in a spray of red.


	113. 113 - Thoria

“No,” Thoria gasped, as Link dropped to his knees, the spear protruding from his chest. “No. No, no, no, _no, no, no_!”

She fell forwards, catching him in her arms as he reached for her. His brow was knitted, his lips parted as though confused. He touched the tip of the spear as his green tunic began to stain red. Snarling, Thoria flung her hand at the advancing soldiers, throwing them back, scattering them like skittles across the hall. In the same movement, she conjured a ball of energy that surrounded her and Link, protecting them from further harm. She felt her energy dip as the magic took its toll, and cursed her earlier restraint.

“Breathe for me,” Thoria heard her own voice say. “Just breathe. You’re going to be fine. You’re going to be just fine.”

Her heart was throwing itself against her ribs, her lungs tight as her breath hissed between her teeth. She gripped Link’s arms as he slumped forward, his own fingers loose on her sleeve. She focused her power. He would not die. Not like this.

Her hand began to glow and she raised it to his chest.

“This might hurt,” she said, softly, pushing on the spear. But Link raised a sluggish hand and moved hers away.

“It’s too late,” he said, his voice ragged.

“No, it isn’t,” Thoria said. “I can help. I can heal you. I’ve healed you before. Let me try.”

Link shook his head. He leaned to the side, and Thoria pulled him closer, cradling him. A drop of liquid crystal appeared on his cheek. Outside the bubble of magic, the soldiers patrolled, striking the forcefield and shouting. Neither their swords nor their words penetrated the magic, and only one soldier stood still. No more than a boy, his hands over his mouth, his hands empty of the spear lodged in her husband’s chest. By the throne, Zelda was screaming.

“Let me help you,” Thoria said. Link smiled.

“You have,” he said. “More than you know. I’m sorry. But you can’t do any more.”

“I have to try,” she said. Another crystal appeared on his face.

“Stop crying on me,” he said, with the faintest chuckle.

“I’m not,” Thoria said, sniffing. “Shut up and let me help.”

“I know what it feels like to die,” Link said. “I’ve done it before. Just never… never this young…”

He winced, and Thoria clenched her jaw. Her hands moved again, sending her energy deep into his body. If she could just get the spear out, she would knit his flesh back together and he would be fine. _He would be fine_.

Her probing magic found what she was looking for, and her throat constricted. He was right. The spear had pierced his heart. There was no saving him now. She threw back her head and howled in wordless anguish. With all her power, she knew that even she could not bring him back now. Holding him closer, she sent her magic deeper into him, to shield him from the pain. She felt him relax in her arms.

“I’m sorry we never got you home,” he said, his voice faint. With a great effort, he raised his hand and brushed the tears from her cheeks. “I’m sorry I can’t do any more for you.”

Thoria said nothing, but held his hand to her cheek, watching as his eyes began to close. The tendrils of magic were rooted deep within him, and she had the sudden urge to freeze the moment, to keep him here, forever, brink of death or not. He would still be alive, if barely. He could still stay until she learned how to save him.

But it would be a life of pain, and her magic could not sustain him forever.

“You once said you’d die for me,” she murmured. “You shouldn’t have meant it.”

Link tried to smile, his eyes closed. “I meant it… when I said… I love you.”

“ _Chì mi a-rithist thu_ ,” Thoria vowed, as his fingers loosened in her grip. “I love you.”

XXXXXX

Link lay still in her arms. She could no longer feel the flutter of his pulse, nor the hush of breath against her neck. She screwed up her face and lowered her forehead to his. Even the warmth of his skin was leaving him. As she knelt, the Hero of Twilight dead in her arms, her sorrow was overwhelmed by a deep, boiling rage. She raised her head, glaring through the shimmering orb that encased them. The soldiers still struck the forcefield, their faces masks of horror and fury. Thoria smiled an icy smile. Their fury was _nothing_ compared to hers.

She rose, lifting Link’s body as effortlessly as if it was made of cloth. He hung limp. Through the orb, Zelda saw. Her eyes met Thoria’s, and she began to scream again, pointing a finger, her hair in disarray, tears pouring down her face.

“If you truly loved him,” Thoria whispered, her voice echoing through the chamber. “You would have let him go.”

The orb stilled its shimmering and hardened, the translucent green mist solidifying and becoming opaque. Thoria’s wintry smile became a malicious grin, and she raised her chin.

The orb shattered with a deafening explosion, shards of thick glass flying in all directions. The soldiers before her fell, their armour torn to tatters. The nobility above screamed and ducked. Zelda threw herself to the floor, her weak ward glimmering gold, Impa throwing herself on top of her. The Sheikah jerked and slumped to the side as glass shredded her. Thora curled her lip as the queen scrambled on the ground, babbling pleas and jumbled threats, wailing piteously and covered in the blood of the dying Sheikah.

“You killed him!” she cried, pointing a finger at Link. “It’s your fault!”

Thoria said nothing, but held Link closer. Her gaze locked on the princess, she kissed his cheek softly, and pushed on the spear, letting it clatter to the ground. Without a word, she rose into the air, a fierce wind billowing around the Throne Room. Zelda cowered alone, surrounded by corpses and debris. Thoria felt her hair whip about her face, and she knew her eyes were burning with green fire.

A window shattered, spilling glass across the floor. Thoria turned her back on the throne and the weeping queen, and soared out into the cold, blue sky.

She flew high, a black speck against the clouds. Her mind was blank, concentrating only on her flight, and the body in her arms. She could not think of what had happened. She must not. For is she thought of it, it would become real. It was not real. It would remain a nightmare until she found a way to fix it. She sealed her pain inside a steel chest, seamless and strong.

She flew over Hyrule, keeping out of sight. From above, the land seemed to stretch forever, green and brown and blue. She could see Death Mountain, she could see Lake Hylia, she could see the Forgotten Desert and the Arbiter’s Grounds. If she focused, she could see herds of wild horses, flocks of sheep, and people. What would happen to the people now that their Hero was gone?

A sob escaped her steel chest and her flight wavered, dipped. She clutched Link tighter and doubled down on her seal.

She flew aimlessly, heading vaguely south, where trees stretched for miles and miles. Over the village he had called his home. Over the secret part of the forest where few dared to tread. Further still, to a part of the forest that felt old. That felt forgotten. That felt lost.

She was growing weary. She had never flown this far, and never whilst holding someone else. She cast her gaze below, and spotted a clearing in the ancient part of the woods. She began to descend, landing unsteadily. She staggered, and dropped to her knees. Only when she was sure she was safe on the ground did she release her iron grip on Link’s body, and let him slide to the grass.

She crossed her legs and looked around. The clearing was large, almost a perfect circle. The grass was long, and peppered with tiny wildflowers. The trees were old, their trunks thick and gnarled. Birds chirruped softly, their song muted. The sun beat down, not yet bringing the warmth of summer, but bright. Thoria closed her eyes. How did the sun still shine when the light had gone out of her life?

The seal of her steel chest cracked. She put her head in her hands and wept. When her shoulders burned from hunching, she threw back her head and screamed her misery into the air. The sound echoed through the clearing, and birds took flight in their hundreds. Foxes fled their dens, and deer bounded away, each living being seeking to escape the wave of sorrow that resonated through the forest.

She listed to the side and collapsed, curling up in the crook of Link’s arm. When once it would have risen to embrace her, now it lay still. When once she would have been lulled to sleep by the beating of his heart, now that too, lay still. She gripped his tunic and sobbed into his chest, powerless to do anything but hold him.

An hour passed before she could sit up. She rubbed her eyes and glanced down at him, his skin pale, stiller than any sleeping man had the right to be. Thoria screwed up her face and pulled Link into her lap, holding him close and burying her face in his tunic once more. Without looking, she raised a hand and made a motion. The earth opened, the soil flowing to form a pile next to the hole. A hole that was six feet deep. A hole that was long enough for him to lie comfortably. A hole that was wide enough for his shoulders. At the bottom, the earth smoothed, the top end rising, forming the impression of a pillow, turning to soft cotton and satin. Keeping her eyes closed, Thoria lowered her hand and rocked back and forth, her face buried in Link’s neck.

“We should have run,” she wept. “We should have left when we had the chance. Why did you have to try to convince the princess? Why did I not try harder to make you leave with me? Why did I not tell you sooner? Why did I hide like a coward?” she clenched her teeth. “This is all my fault. None of this would have happened if I hadn’t found this cursed power!”

She held him closer, wishing his arms would rise and embrace her as they once did. She drew on her magic, searching for a flicker, a glimmer of life, anything she could take hold of and make grow, to bring him back. But there was nothing.

“Won’t you wake?” she whispered. “You’re only sleeping. Won’t you wake up?”

But he did not wake.

After a time, Thoria raised her head. Link lay heavy in her arms, his head tilted, resting on her chest. She pulled him closer and brushed his hair out of his eyes. The gold and emerald ring caught the dappled light. It blurred as tears welled again. She gave a great sniff and sighed through her teeth. She made a decision.

“I will save you the pain,” she whispered, stroking his cold face. “You will never remember your past lives. Should you rise again, you will not know of the pain you endured. You will begin anew, a fresh start, like you always wanted. And the princess will not remember, to save reminding you of your curse.”

Thoria gasped as her energy left her, leaving her weak and trembling on the ground next to the grave. Link slumped in her lap, and she wished he was only pretending. As she looked at him, his features seemed to relax, as though his spirit was tempting towards a smile. She knew it had worked. Perhaps now, his soul could rest easily, no longer tormented by half a hundred lifetimes of suffering.

She placed her hand on the ground and drew on the life that was there, supplementing her energy with that of the grass, the flowers, and the insects that dwelled underneath. When she raised her hand, she was dismayed to see a patch of black in the shape of her palm. She shook her head. That was one power she would never use again.

She lay there a while, holding him, as her energy returned. When she felt strong enough, she lifted him, and lowered him gently into the grave, folding his hands over his stomach, feeling as though she was abandoning him. But what else could she do?

_“You could always have me stuffed.” he quipped._

She smiled at the memory, and touched his face one last time.

“ _Chan eil an soraidh slàn gu bràth,_ ” Thoria whispered, moving her hand in a slow wave. The earth at the graveside began to trickle into the hole. She watched as the trickle became a pour, and Link’s face sank under the soil.

“ _This goodbye is not forever_.”

As the earth settled, Thoria drew on her power once more. She thrust her hands towards the ground, and flung them upwards.

With an almighty crack that shattered the silence around them, a white tree sprouted from the earth. Bare of leaves, the trunk twisted and bent, splitting and curving in a way most unnatural to wood. Thoria gritted her teeth and concentrated, moving her hands to shape the plant growing before her over the Hero’s grave.

Before long, a living statue stood before her. It was shaped as Link had been in life, the way she best remembered him. His body was not quite facing her, but his face was turned to hers. His head was dipped just a little, and he was looking at her from under his brows, the beginnings of a smile playing about the corners of his mouth. One hand seemed to be rising, as if to beckon to her.

Thoria ignored the tears that fell freely as she approached. She put her hand in the statue’s hand, and touched the wooden hair. She smiled for a moment, before her smile shattered and she laid her head on the wooden shoulder, her arms around the back, fingers tracing the tunic, chainmail and hat.

“He would be happy to rest here,” came a deep, creaking voice.

Thoria did not start, nor turn around. She had sensed the life the moment she had landed in the grove. She made no reply to the Deku Tree.

“Child, you have suffered much,” the Deku Tree said. “More than most. It would be wise for you to find your way home. I will care for him as he sleeps.”

“Home…” Thoria said, softly. She raised her head from the statue, gazing at his face. “He tried his hardest to make this place a home for me.”

“But it is not truly your home, is it, child?” the Deku Tree responded. Thoria finally looked up. The giant trunk seemed to have the likeness of a face, though it was not from there that the voice came. It seemed to come from all around her, from the creaking branches, from the leaves rustling above.

“I can show you the way,” the Deku Tree said. “It was not open to you before, as you would not have left. But now you have no reason to stay in Hyrule. The path will open for you, with your power. Leave this pain behind, child.”

“Leave?” Thoria said. She closed her eyes and took a slow breath. _Home_. Home after all this time. Home to her job, her friends, her town, her little house that she had so lovingly decorated. How long had it truly been? Had it been the near year she had spent here, or minutes, or decades? Would she even still have a home to go to? Home to a nine till five life of similarity and servitude. Home to a life of debt and poor sleep.

Home without Link.

The fires of grief burned hot and white within her, boiling and thrashing, before condensing into a searing ball of rage. All anyone except Link had done to her here in Hyrule was fear and despise her. She had done nothing to warrant their hostility. She had done _nothing_ to deserve their hate! All she had done was love Link, and had been loved in return. Even that simply joy had driven the princess into madness, hunting her down like a plague-bearing rat. Her hands balled into fists as her eyes began to blaze. She had taken it all. All of the snideness, all of the secrecy, all of the jealousy and the hate and the attempts on her very life! She had accepted it because of Link. She had endured it because she loved him. He had done so much for her. But he was dead. Dead, because of _them._ She stepped back from the statue and raised her chin.

“I will _never_ leave,” she said, and an icy cool washed over her brow. She leaned forward and kissed the statue softly, once, on the lips. As she drew away, the lips of the statue seemed to glitter, and then the glittering began to spread. A wash of white opalescence crept over Link’s face, his neck and shoulders, turning the wood to diamond. His smile seemed to grow as the diamond reached his feet, where the Hero of Twilight lay sleeping beneath the earth.

“Child, you _must_ leave,” the Deku Tree said. “Great harm has come to the kingdom, and only your absence will prevent further destruction. Should you remain, Hyrule will face dark times indeed.”

Thoria straightened her back, rolling out her shoulders.

“It will,” she vowed.

She turned her back on the Deku Tree, the grove, and Link. As she walked away, globe amaranth sprouted, and began to grow over the grave. At the edge of the clearing, she paused and looked back. The statue of Link stood in a thin beam of light that seemed to light a fire within his chest, making the diamond glow like a winter sunset. She cast another spell, one that would drive people away from the grove, to protect the statue of diamond, to let her husband sleep in peace for eternity. She glared as the Deku Tree beseeched her once more to leave. She curled her lip.

“ _Chan fhàg mi gu bràth mo ghaol._ ”

Thoria stepped into the air, pushing herself upwards with the grace of a swan. She heard the Deku Tree call, and she closed her mind to it. Over the forest she flew, over the plains and villages. As she passed, a gasp or cry reached her ears as the people below saw her pass. She did not care.

Let them see. Let them fear her. If they did not, they would soon learn.

Thoria flew to the very edges of Hyrule, where a gigantic mountain cliff scratched at the clouds. This was even bigger than Death Mountain, even taller than the spires of Hyrule Castle. Thoria landed before it, a black speck against its magnificence.

She drank it in. The soaring, sheer rock, the barren, bare land. The chill wind that whipped at her clothes and cloak. She raised her hands, and brought them down in a deep, scooping motion.

The earth in front of her cracked and fell away, forming a deep chasm. Thoria pushed, and the chasm extended out to either side, forming an enormous semicircle that touched the base of the mountain. The earth sharpened at the bottom of the abyss, forming deadly spikes. Thoria walked across the air to the other side, towards the mountain, now cut off from the rest of the land.

She took a deep breath. The magic drained her, but she shook off the tiredness. She summoned Link into her mind, his easy smile and quiet, reserved laugh. How it burst forth like a bark when she caught him off guard with a really good joke. The blue of his eyes. The depth of his voice. The warmth of his arms. She drew on her memories, his face filling her mind.

Thoria reached out and grasped the air, summoning her strength. She lowered herself into a crouch, and took a breath.

She blasted upward, flinging her hands up and toward the mountain. It split, a great crack forming at the base and running several hundred feet up. The jagged rift split into several smaller cracks, and those split into even more, spidering across the rockface. Thoria clenched her fists and pulled.

The rock fell away, revealing a shapeless mass in the space where the stone had once stood. Thoria landed and strode forward, summoning her power again.

Where she walked, black rock began to spread, creeping over the barren earth to form a pathway of obsidian. As she neared the mountain, obsidian steps appeared before her. She began to ascend, and the rock became black around her, writhing and squirming.

An archway appeared over her head as the rock fanned away, walls forming into a great hallway. Jagged turrets appeared as windows sank into the black stone. The ceiling vaulted, growing higher and higher overhead. The corridor lengthened as another grand archway appeared before her.

Two great, black stone doors appeared, as the two at the entrance swung closed, silencing the light of day as suddenly as blowing out a candle.

Thoria did not need the sunlight to see. The rock fled before her, flowing into high walls and columns to hold up the exquisitely carved ceiling.

A few more steps materialised, rising to a platform, and before her, a great, black throne appeared. A throne with a high back and jagged edges, spires and spikes jutting sharply from the sides. Thoria strode on, unclasping the cloak at her neck. She tore at the clothes she wore, and they shredded and burned, falling from her body. Naked, she approached the throne.

As she turned, shadows began to creep about her feet. They snaked up her legs and along her torso, winding over her shoulders until she was clad in an elegant gown of smoke and shadow that writhed at the hem, as though it was alive. She ran a hand over the arm of the throne, and slowly, slowly sat down. She leaned back, resting her arms on the sides, crossing one elegant leg over the other, and surveyed her new throne room as wisp lights began to appear in the black. She raised her chin and allowed herself a cold smile, as she whispered into the darkness.

_Is e m ’ainm Thoria._

_Cuir eagal orm_.

The End

Wow, guys. This has been one hell of an experience! From start to finish, this has been an absolute joy, occasional pain, and total heartbreak to create. I have adored all the feedback you’ve given me, and will unashamedly admit that I read over all your comments at least once a week!

Thank you so much for taking the time to read this, and thank you so much for leaving comments and kudos! I hope you all enjoyed reading this as much as I did writing it. It certainly spiralled into something bigger than I ever anticipated.

I’ll be taking a teensy break from writing for a few days. It’s my absolute passion, but absence does make the heart grow fonder, after all, and I’ve spent every spare moment of this last year tippering away at my keyboard! But, for those of you who want to see more of my work, trust me, there will be more.

Keep an eye on my profile; I have a few ideas bouncing around in this silly old noggin of mine, as well as something bigger that I’ve been looking forward to for a while.

Stay tuned; part two, _A Dark Castle Rises_ , is coming soon.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for taking the time to read this, I hope everyone is staying safe and well during these trying times. 
> 
> If you enjoyed, please leave a comment - I love reading them; they absolutely make my day, and your feedback is move valuable to me than I can express.
> 
> I'm now on twitter under AderynTheHylian! I'll be (sporadically) popping on and shouting at pigeons, so hop on over and give me a follow!


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